Assassination
by elbcw
Summary: A plot to kill the King causes issues for all the Musketeers.
1. Chapter 1

**Authors note: This is a story which expands on some of my Whumptober 2019 stories/one-shots. Some are included as they were originally written, and some have been changed slightly to better fit the plot. **

**They are all in it and they all get whumped at some point or other. **

**I hope you enjoy it.**

Prologue

The twilight cast long shadows across the streets. A light rain had made the cobbles shine bringing an almost attractive quality to the street. Almost. A couple of women their shoulders bare, breasts barely contained in tight corsets, were busy trying to beguile a couple of young men into their boudoir. The men, rich and stupid, would have a couple of good hours with the women and leave with their pockets significantly lighter.

The Spaniard shook his head, the same scene was probably playing out in his home city. Women sold themselves, the men bought what was on offer. He turned his attention away from the less than salubrious side of the great city. He was not interested in the whores and beggars he had a bigger target in mind. Nothing but the Crown itself would satisfy the Spaniards master. And he knew if he achieved his goal his own rewards would be great.

His contact, a middle-aged man of some influence, approached him cautiously. The caution was justified, the man was wary, but not scared. The Spaniard was sure the Frenchman could hold his own in a confrontation. Which was what they needed. The Frenchman was the man who would get them where they needed to be.

'Is everything ready?' asked the man as he reached the Spaniard.

The Spaniard nodded, he liked the Frenchman's directness, his no-nonsense approach.

'I should be able to gather the final details over the next couple of days. Sometimes these things change. I don't want us to commit our resources until we are sure.'

Hiding a smile, the Spaniard nodded. The resources were not from the Frenchman, they were solely from his employer. The Frenchman was their go-between and eventual mouthpiece. He was not their financier.

A muffled sound made them both look in the direction the Frenchman had come from. The Spaniard took a couple of steps forward, his hand on the hilt of his dagger.

'I wasn't followed,' said the Frenchman, a surety in his voice that the Spaniard liked.

'If you were followed but are sure you were not, Senor,' said the Spaniard, 'it either means you were, indeed, not followed, or they are very good.'

'I was not followed,' reiterated the Frenchman with a look of annoyance at the veiled accusation.

The Spaniard decided nobody was watching them. He glanced back along the road; the whores had disappeared with their prey. The street was empty apart from the two of them.

'Here are the final instructions,' said the Spaniard, handing the Frenchman a roll of parchment, tightly bound with a black ribbon, 'we will be in touch a few hours beforehand. It would be wise for you not to be there when we make our move. We do not want you to be involved, on either side.'

The Frenchman nodded his understanding, 'I can ensure I will not be around. There are several things I could do to make that happen. Our anointed leader tires of his courtiers easily. I will not need to be near him when you strike.'

'Bueno,' said the Spaniard. 'When we are done, we will meet again as equals.'

The Frenchman smiled, 'the changes will be for the best of both our countries. A bigger, united, force against the rest of Europe.'

The two men regarded each other for a few seconds, one thinking they were equals, one knowing they were not.

The Frenchman turned, his cloak brushing the Spaniard's legs as he went, his expensive shoes tapping across the wet cobbles. The Spaniard watched him go, knowing that although he was useful, they were not equal. The Spaniard wondered if the Frenchman would realise that fact, wondered if he would get the chance to realise that fact before his eventual demise.

MMMM


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter One

Porthos was a few yards ahead of Aramis, the Musketeer was obviously keen to get back to Paris. Aramis was content to savour the last few minutes before they had to be back on high alert. The freedom of the countryside they had been travelling through, with its wide-open spaces, would be replaced by blind corners and dark alleyways. People who were not what they seemed and a constant need to be on their guard. Not that they ever really switched off, but the peace of the rolling rural setting was always welcomed by Aramis.

He yawned; he was looking forward to sleeping in a proper bed. They had camped for three nights on the trot. He stretched his back, easing out the kinks that were threatening to leave him bent double when he finally dismounted at the garrison. Aramis was sure Porthos had managed to find them the most uncomfortable camping grounds possible each night.

'You coming?' asked Porthos over his shoulder, a slight impatience to his tone.

Aramis smiled, 'what is it that is calling you back to earnestly? A card game? A woman?'

Porthos grinned, 'a generous helping of Madam Laurant's stew…'

Aramis nodded, 'the lovely Anne-Sophie,' he gazed off into the distance for a few seconds. 'Her wayward husband is still...wayward?'

Porthos nodded with another grin.

'I think that tavern is actually doing better since he disappeared,' mused Aramis. 'Will you begrudge company?'

Porthos shook his head, 'I'm hoping to get Athos and d'Artagnan to visit as well. We've been away for a fortnight, there must be gossip to catch up on-'

'Gossip,' laughed Aramis, 'have you turned into an interfering washerwoman?'

Porthos shrugged. They continued towards the city enjoying their last moments of relative freedom. Aramis looked forward to an evening with his brothers. Good company, food and wine followed by a good night's sleep in his own bed were what he craved.

They pushed on into the city, the streets, quiet to begin with became increasingly busy with market stalls and Parisians going about their daily business. Aramis found his relaxing canter through the countryside all but forgotten as his horse slowly picked her way through the mass of people.

They were in uniform; they were marked out as the King's elite guard. People moved out of their way, but it was still slow progress. If there were more of them, they would have progressed quicker. They had to content themselves with the promise of Madam Laurant's stew. They would get to it, just not as quickly as they both would have liked.

Aramis watched the people, the young, the old, the people rushing, the people who could take their time. A group of three men caught Aramis' eyes. They were walking purposefully in loose formation. One, shorter and stockier than the other two walked a pace ahead. The following men appeared to be subordinate to the shorter man. One a giant brute of a man would probably give Porthos a run for his money in a brawl, while the other had lost an eye at some point in his life, although long enough ago for the wound to be fully healed and him to have no issue dealing with his reduced circumstances. As they disappeared around a corner Aramis wondered what nefarious business they were up to. He was sure they were not on a mission of welfare, at least not for anyone else's welfare.

As they neared the garrison Aramis knew it was not worth worrying about the suspicious men. At any one time in the city, evil was being played out in a dozen places. They simply could not deal with it all.

He put the suspicions from his mind as he and Porthos turned into the garrison.

MMMM

Treville shut the door to his office and turned back to Athos and d'Artagnan. His soldiers stood, not quite at attention, but they were certainly attentive. Athos, slightly turned to the side as if he expected his Captain to retreat behind his desk watched him carefully, Treville imagined the Musketeer trying to read his thoughts. D'Artagnan, standing slightly straighter, one hand fisted into the palm of the other, showed a keen interest in whatever was about to be said by his Captain.

He had given them the nod as the afternoon muster was ending. The other men had dispersed to the mess or assorted assignments for the night as the Captain led the two Musketeers to the steps. Neither man had spoken, neither man needed to. Treville knew they understood that they would be told what they needed to know when he deemed it safe to do so.

'Aramis and Porthos are due back soon, I want you to give them a few hours to rest before you start your investigations. I want the four of you able to concentrate. Take tonight to relax for a few hours, tomorrow you will begin.'

He paused, neither man felt the need to point out to him that he had not actually told them what they were to be investigating. They knew he would move onto the details.

'I have had information from a reliable source that there is a plot against the Royal family. We do not have full details; we only know that a member of the Court is very much involved. Tomorrow I want you to begin investigating this man. The King is unaware of the plot and I would like it to stay that way if possible. He has other concerns at the moment.'

Athos rolled his eyes.

'The King always has other concerns,' muttered the Musketeer.

Treville managed a wry smile. He moved around to stand on the other side of his desk, a glance at the papers strewn across it reminding him how preoccupied he had been since he had been updated by his informant. He had been in the middle of invoicing equipment; he would return to the laborious task once he knew his men were fully informed. At least fully informed with the limited information he had.

'This source-' started d'Artagnan.

'Will remain anonymous to you,' finished Treville with a half-smile. 'He is a man that has given me useful bits of information before. He has a knack for spotting things that are out of the ordinary. I trust him implicitly.'

D'Artagnan accepted what he said with a nod.

Treville pulled his chair away from his desk and sat down, resting his elbows on the edge of the table, avoiding the disorganised papers that required his attention. He looked up at his men.

'I want you to investigate Baron Phillipe de Gerard,' he said.

He paused trying to read their reactions. The Baron, a man in his forties was a strong influence at the Court, he had some outspoken views which riled the King but on the whole, was respected. Athos had narrowed his eyes, the question on his lips did not need to be asked.

'He was seen,' said Treville before Athos could speak, 'by my source talking to a Spaniard. They spoke briefly. But it was clear from their conversation that Gerard is involved in the plot. My source got the impression that he was important to the plot.'

'To kill the King?' asked d'Artagnan.

'So it would seem.'

Athos shifted uncomfortably, 'I know he has some different views to the King and his ministers, but not enough to warrant an assassination?'

Treville sighed, 'I believe his views have become more extreme. I remember him as a younger man before his wife died, he was idealistic then. Now, I think he is bitter and narrow-minded.'

'Losing his wife changed him?' asked d'Artagnan.

Treville nodded, 'she died in childbirth, the baby also died. His grief was almost his undoing. He shut himself away for a while only returning to the Court when ordered to do so by the King. He conducted himself correctly, but the man was changed. Broken.'

Treville watched Athos look away, his own look of grief bubbling to the surface for a few seconds, quickly suppressed. Treville wondered if they would ever fully learn what it was that made Athos who he was. What sort of man he would be if whatever troubled him stopped doing so? D'Artagnan had noticed the look but chose not to react. Treville approved.

'What do you want us to do?' asked Athos, his attention fully returned to the job at hand.

'That I will leave up to you. We need to know if the plot is credible. Who else is involved? The why's and how's, obviously. And. Can it be stopped?'

D'Artagnan nodded, 'you're sure this can wait until the morning? You don't want Athos and I to begin straight away'

Treville shook his head, 'my source said they indicated that there was time before anything would happen. I want the four of you working on this together, but I want Aramis and Porthos rested before they start.'

'We will brief them in the morning,' said Athos.

Treville nodded, 'report to me what you find out, but you have free rein to investigate the Baron as you see fit. I will smooth things with the King and Court if needs be.'

He knew it did not need to be said, but the reassurance that they could uphold their duty to protect the King without having to worry about the more delicate members of the court was welcomed by his men, he was sure.

'I do not envy you your job,' said Athos.

Treville smiled, he knew that despite being the obvious choice, Athos did not like his position as next in line for the Captaincy of the Musketeers. Although Treville equally hoped the position would not become available for several years.

He waved them from his office. Both men nodded respectfully before retreating back to the garrison yard. The dwindling light of the evening forcing Treville to look for more candles as the door was closed.

MMMM

_Later that evening..._

Madam Laurent had spotted them as they walked into the tavern, she smiled and nodded towards a table near the fire that was free. Porthos had wandered over to the attractive woman, who was busy wiping down the bar in front of the barrels of assorted wines and spirits she sold.

'Not seen you for a couple of weeks,' she said.

'Been busy on the King's business,' replied Porthos with a slight smile.

Madam Laurent leaned forward slightly, Porthos knew what she was doing, and he had every intention of letting her. Her hair was swept up loosely on top of her head with a few tantalising auburn tresses falling across her shoulders.

'And are you busy on the King's business tonight?' she asked, looking up at him through long eyelashes.

Porthos leaned closer to her and asked quietly, 'I take it Monsieur Laurent is still...away.'

Madam Laurent's smile increased, 'don't think he'll be back.'

Porthos straightened up, 'in which case, after my friends and I have enjoyed some of your excellent stew...I might find myself...not on the King's business for a few hours…'

'I might find myself with nothing to do either,' remarked Madame Laurent with a coy smile.

She turned from him and collected a bottle and cups, arranging them on a tray.

'I'll have your food brought over,' she said, her normal business-like attitude returning as another customer wandered up to the bar.

Porthos winked at her as he took the wine, the promise of a warm bed and pleasant company were a welcome distraction to the intrigue of their next assignment. D'Artagnan had indicated that Treville had given them some work to do but that it could wait until the morning.

Porthos returned to the table to find Aramis shaking his head.

'Are you jealous?' he asked as he put the tray down and began pouring them a cup of wine each.

'Not in the slightest, my friend,' chuckled Aramis.

They settled to an evening of wine and good company. The hearty stew was enjoyed by the four of them, with Madam Laurent providing Porthos with an extra helping and a wanton look as she turned from the table.

The tavern was busy, Madam Laurent and her staff were kept busy serving the customers. He almost felt the need to intervene when one of the market traders started to get too friendly towards the landlady, his worry was unfounded when two of the regulars simply grabbed the drunk man and threw him out earning themselves a free drink each as thanks.

A couple of young boys snuck their way around the tables trying to steal coins where they could. Porthos made eye contact with them and shook his head, they stared at the Musketeer wide-eyed, before scampering out the door, into the night no doubt to pick the pockets of passers-by instead.

Porthos watched Aramis and d'Artagnan refilling their cups knowing that neither man was particularly good at holding their drink. He glanced at Athos who shook his head but did not say anything, his friend was behaving as usual. Athos was generally the quietest of them all, at least, thought Porthos, he had not stalked off to sit alone brooding over things he would not share with the rest of them.

D'Artagnan put down his cup and stared across the tavern, Porthos followed his gaze. The men his friend was staring at were of a similar age and all smiling broadly at d'Artagnan. The young Musketeer pushed himself up to stand and walk across the room, grabbing one of the men in a quick embrace. The men were well dressed, Porthos got the impression they were traders of something expensive. He wondered how d'Artagnan knew them. D'Artagnan had a brief conversation with the men before returning to the table.

'Sorry,' he said, unable to keep the smile from his face, 'that's an old friend of mine and his brothers. Will you excuse me? I've not seen them in years.'

'Of course,' said Porthos, 'just don't stay out too late, we've got mystery work to do in the morning.'

D'Artagnan chuckled, nodded a farewell to them each and returned to his friend's side. The group wandered to the far corner of the tavern and were soon deep in conversation. Drinks were ordered and the occasional bout of raucous laughter could be heard.

Athos was watching Aramis who was draining another cup of wine and about to reach for the bottle.

'I think,' said Athos, his usual considered voice almost drowned out by the laughter from d'Artagnan and his friends, 'that we should call it a night.'

Porthos nodded with a glance at Madam Laurent who was busy organising more drinks for d'Artagnan and his friends.

'Aramis,' said Athos, 'much as I dislike ever having to mother you, but you need to go to bed.'

Porthos smirked, Aramis looked at them both, his attempts to focus on them failing almost instantly. He looked at his cup for a few seconds before pushing it away.

'I suppose I could accompany you back to the garrison,' said Aramis, a knowing look in his eye, 'we wouldn't want anything happening to you.'

Athos rose from the table, taking his hat and placing it on his head.

'I take it you will not be retiring back to the garrison?' asked Athos.

Porthos smiled, glanced at Madam Laurent who was watching as the group broke up for the evening, and shook his head.

'I'll be retiring, but not at the garrison.'

Aramis chuckled as he pushed himself up to stand, trying to hide the fact he was steadying himself on the table.

'Enjoy your evening,' said Athos as he guided Aramis from the tavern.

Porthos was sure he would.

MMMM

D'Artagnan finally left his friends a couple of hours after Athos had escorted a slightly drunk Aramis from the tavern and Porthos had slyly disappeared with Madam Laurent into the back of the tavern. He had enjoyed his time catching up with his friends who had made money trading with other countries and were looking to invest in further trading opportunities in the city. After a few minutes trying to persuade d'Artagnan to join them in their business, the visitors to the city had acquiesced and accepted that d'Artagnan was happy with his new commission as a Musketeer.

When they had parted his friend had hurriedly written his new address down and thrust it into d'Artagnan's hand, telling him that if he was ever in the area, he would be more than welcome. D'Artagnan smiled saying he hoped he could take him up on the offer.

He stepped out into the crisp night air, the coolness helping to sober him. He had not drunk much after he moved to sit with his friends, the conversation such that they forgot the wine that sat in front of them.

A carriage passed in front of him causing a couple of shuffling beggars to move out of the way quickly, cursing the driver for urging the horses on too quickly for the narrow street.

D'Artagnan watched the beggars move off, once he was satisfied that neither beggar was hurt, he turned to walk towards the garrison. As he passed a side street, he noticed a group of men in dark clothes huddled together. D'Artagnan continued to walk past before ducking into a doorway and watching the entrance to the side street as the men appeared. They walked across the road and into the opposite street. Something about them was suspicious. D'Artagnan could not work out what it was but he knew he would not be able to ignore the feeling.

Following at a distance, d'Artagnan watched the group of men, five in all, walking along the street towards an area of the city that was largely deserted and derelict. He knew there would be people living there, the beggars and the destitute. It was not on a par with the court of Miracles but had the potential to go that way. Richelieu was very much of the opinion the area should be razed to the ground and rebuilt, d'Artagnan was tempted to agree, although it needed to be done sooner rather than later.

Two of the men were slightly ahead of the other three, one tall and slim the other shorter and stockier. Their dark clothes and hooded cloaks made it difficult for d'Artagnan to catch anything distinguishing about them. The three men walking at the back could be told apart, one was a tall, broad giant like man who seemed to lumber along. The second was slender and walked smoothly, almost cat-like. The third had the countenance of a soldier. But d'Artagnan knew that if the men were to walk amongst a crowd, he would struggle to pick them out without having seen their faces.

The man who d'Artagnan had decided was the leader stopped at the door to a boarded-up house. D'Artagnan darted into a recessed doorway opposite, pressing himself as far out of sight as he could. The group disappeared into the house, after a pause to look up and down the road. D'Artagnan crept across the road and peered through a gap in the boarding of the nearest window.

The room he was looking into was empty, he tentatively pulled at the boarding and found it to be loose. His heart thumping, he eased the boarding away from the window and looked further into the room. The door connecting the room to the hallway was closed, he could see light flickering under the door and the occasional shadow pass. As quietly as he could d'Artagnan pulled the boarding away and hopped up to the windowsill before swinging his legs into the room. He looked at the floor, wondering how many of the ancient floorboards would creak if he walked across them.

With slow, careful steps, d'Artagnan managed to make his way across to the door. He leaned as close as he could and listened to the conversation going on beyond the rotting wood.

'I told you that the plans are ready. We just need the perfect moment to strike, Senor, and you are to provide us with that.'

The man that spoke had a good French accent, but he was unmistakably Spanish.

The response came from a man who could only have come from the upper classes.

'Gallo, I have said before that the perfect time will be when they leave the cathedral, they are always at their most vulnerable.'

'Bueno,' said the Spaniard. 'You are doing your country a great service and will continue to do so as her leader.'

D'Artagnan detected a hint of sarcasm in the words. The sarcasm seemed to be lost on the upper-class man.

'I will lead the people well. We will unite our two countries. Together we will be stronger.'

The upper-class man seemed very proud of an achievement he had yet to make.

'Give me the details,' said the Spaniard, 'I want to know what they will do when they go to the Cathedral.'

D'Artagnan glanced around the musty room he was standing in, he looked at a dusty desk by the door. He could not help a smile as he looked at the paper and ink that lay on the desk. The paper was curled with damp with age but still good enough for his purposes. The inkwell had not dried out and the quill was still sharp. He grabbed the paper and began to write. He made notes of what was being said in the next room. He knew he would be able to remember most of what was being said but he wanted to be sure all the pertinent information reached the right people. The men he was listening to were obviously involved in the plot against the King that Treville had told them about. D'Artagnan was sure the upper-class man was Gerard.

It annoyed him that he could not simply step into the room and arrest the men for treason, but he was on his own and would stand no chance against five men who were probably well armed and prepared to kill for their cause.

'This is Dubois,' said the Spaniard who Gerard had referred to as Gallo, 'he is the best man with explosives that I know.'

Gerard chuckled, 'I like that you are prepared to employ a Frenchman for the task.'

'As I said,' replied Gallo, 'he is the best.'

'The demonstration will be quite dramatic,' said another man, d'Artagnan guessed the explosive expert. 'I would suggest we leave and watch from the end of the street. It will take twenty seconds.'

'I will enjoy the show from further away than that,' said Gerard. 'I will meet you again in a week in our usual place.'

Gallo replied, 'as you wish Senor.'

D'Artagnan heard footsteps pass the room he was hiding in. There was a pause as the front door was opened, an ominous creak highlighting its lack of use. As the door closed and Gerard could be heard hastening away d'Artagnan turned his attention back to the other men.

'It will not last long,' Dubois said. 'I take it you are only using him to get the other elites on your side before ousting him and taking over yourself?'

Gallo chuckled, 'typical of the lower classes to be more astute than the idiots at the top,' he said. 'Yes. We only need him long enough to ensure the King's brother does not try to take the throne. He will be a mouthpiece, a puppet, nothing more. My employer is paying him well to do as he is told, and he is thick enough to think that he is an equal partner in our work.'

'The fuses are set, I suggest you all retreat,' said Dubois after a few seconds his voice muffled slightly. 'I am pleased to help with your cause and am pleased to offer this demonstration.'

D'Artagnan heard several sets of booted feet moving passed, making their way to the door which was pulled open. With shock d'Artagnan realised the demonstration of Dubois' ability was to be made by destroying the house they had met in.

The house d'Artagnan was still standing in.

MMMM

**Authors note: More tomorrow.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Authors note: If you read my Whumptober 2019 stories you will probably remember parts of this chapter; 'Explosion'; 'Delirium' and the first part of 'Adrenalin' feature heavily. There are a few changes to help the plot. **

**Possible trigger warning: This chapter features an attack by dogs.**

D'Artagnan did not have his eyes open but he knew the sun was beating down on him. He slowly turned his head and raised his hand to shield his eyes as he opened them. Even after shading his eyes the brightness of the day was uncomfortable. Through squinted eyes, he looked around. He was not sure where he was. Wherever he was had been destroyed, stone walls were crumbled and fallen all around him. Wisps of smoke told him the destruction was new. But he could not remember it happening.

The ringing in his ears slowly faded, to be replaced by silence. He wished the thumping in his head would fade as well.

Very slowly, d'Artagnan managed to sit up. He looked down at himself, he was dusty and his clothing and boots were scuffed, but he did not seem hurt. Other than his head.

He had definitely hurt his head.

He reached up and felt the back of his head, there was a lump, but no blood. He suspected he would find bruises as the hours wore on, but at that moment it was only the bump on his head that was affecting him.

He tried to piece together how he had come to be where he was. Had he been with anyone? Should he be looking for someone else in the rubble that had been a building? He did not even know what the building had been. It was all very confusing. There was something in his mind that came to the fore. He had written something down. He reached into his doublet and pulled out a folded piece of paper, he looked at it for a few seconds and realised it had probably been a good idea that he had written down the details of what he had found out, as he had no recollection of them.

But now he knew why he was where he was. He also knew he would have to get that information back to his Captain. Treville would know what to do with it.

D'Artagnan set himself a mission. Getting back to the garrison.

He knew the injury to his head was likely to cause him problems. The sooner he could get back to the garrison, back to safety, the better. He could hand over the information and let his friends take care of him. He managed a smile, they still fussed over him as if he was a cadet whenever he was injured. Secretly he did not mind.

He slowly looked around again, there was no sign of anyone else, not even a body. Had he been alone when the building had exploded?

He was sure the building had been blown up, either by accident or design, but he had no idea why. Perhaps the information he had written down would make sense to Treville and he would know why it was necessary for the building, whatever it had been, to be destroyed.

With carefully controlled movements, d'Artagnan, twisted around so that he was on his knees. His vision swam, he had to take a few deep breaths, fighting a nausea he had not felt whilst lying on his back.

The explosion had either scared people away or he was in a very quiet area of the city, perhaps on the outskirts. Would people be coming? D'Artagnan decided that he did not want to meet anyone, he would not know if they were friend or foe and in his current state, he would not be able to fight anyone.

Getting to his feet and moving away was his first priority, orientating himself and heading towards the garrison his second.

Get back to the garrison.

D'Artagnan's mission would become his mantra, he had to fight the head injury, he had to succeed.

After a few stumbled steps he managed to stand straight. He waited for the spinning to stop before moving again. He had to try to walk normally or he would draw attention to himself. Although walking away from the site of an explosion whilst covered with dust was likely to make him noticeable anyway. But that could not be helped, he had brushed off the worst of the dust and debris, but he knew he would still stand out.

If he did not look at anyone, if he ignored people, he might not get stopped. He could not be stopped. He could not be delayed.

Get back to the garrison.

D'Artagnan made his way through the fallen stones and bricks, being careful not to stumble, he did not like the idea of having to get to his feet again. He still had not seen anyone. It took him a few more yards of careful steps to work out where he was. He looked up, fortunately away from the harsh sunlight and saw the steeple to an old disused church. He sighed. He now knew he had quite a long walk ahead of him. And there was not even the prospect of a safe haven between his current location and the garrison.

Get back to the garrison.

Voices to his left made him turn his head, a movement he quickly regretted. Pushing on through the spinning and nausea he moved quickly out of sight of the people. He did not stop to see who had arrived as he walked away.

Normally d'Artagnan would have welcomed a warm sunny morning, but not this time. The low sun was hot on his back as he walked, each time he found shade he was pleased.

Perhaps he could stop in the shade for a while.

Get back to the garrison.

He pushed on. More people started to appear, some stopped to look at him, some walked on by. None of them spoke to him, he continued to look ahead, he did not make eye contact, he could not be distracted. He felt as though he was making progress across the city, but at the same time, it did not feel as though he had moved at all. He wondered if he was walking in a circle. He knew he was not; he had not turned off the road. But he would have to soon, although he could not remember why.

Get back to the garrison.

D'Artagnan turned into a smaller road, he knew it linked to the busy road that led to his destination. He had forgotten where he was going again. He paused, leaning on a wall, running a hand through his hair. He gasped as he brushed the bruising to his head, he could feel his knees buckling.

Get back to the garrison.

Panting hard, blinking frequently and trying not to throw up, d'Artagnan managed to push off the wall and stand again. He could not afford to stop he had to keep going. He had to get to the...the...what was he doing again?

Get back to the garrison.

Get back to the garrison.

Get back to the garrison.

But why?

MMMM

'He was quite merry when we left,' said Porthos with a grin, 'if he carried on drinking, I hate to think what state he'll be in when he turns up.'

Athos shook his head, 'he knew we were to start work first thing.'

'You were the ones that wanted us to have a relaxing evening before we started work on, whatever it is that Treville has given us to do,' said Porthos.

Athos reluctantly agreed, 'Treville was quite adamant that he needed you two rested before we began, although I am not sure this is what he had in mind.'

Athos nodded towards Aramis who was pouring himself a cup of water, the Musketeer was trying to hide the fact that he was suffering from the effects of too much alcohol. Aramis had been a little the worse for wear the previous evening as Athos, in a switch to their usual places had escorted his friend to his rooms and deposited him on his bed.

Aramis managed a contrite smile after he put the jug of water down.

'At least I slept in my own bed,' said Aramis with a smirk, that Athos could tell his friend regretted making.

Porthos scoffed, 'do I look like I didn't relax last night?' he asked with a wink.

Athos rolled his eyes, 'the assignment we have been given is to stop an assassination of the King.'

Both his friends looked at him. Athos knew they would give him their undivided attention. D'Artagnan already knew what they were going to be doing when the young Musketeer showed up, he could join them in their investigations. Although Athos wondered if his friend would be any worse off than Aramis was.

'When d'Artagnan turns up,' said Athos, 'perhaps you could mix him one of those draughts of yours that helps with headaches?'

Porthos sniggered, 'I think Aramis could probably do with one of those himself.'

Aramis looked at them both, 'it's not that bad. I'll be fine by the time we start our duty.'

Athos shook his head and rolled his eyes.

They all looked up when they saw him. Porthos laughed, Aramis smirked, and Athos shook his head again.

The young Musketeer looked as though he had just wandered out of the tavern. Athos wondered if he had continued to drink with his friends after had left him.

'How did he get in that state?' asked Athos as he looked d'Artagnan over.

The young man was filthy, he was covered in dust and dirt, he had mud on his breeches and his boots were scuffed. He was also missing his weapons, Athos knew d'Artagnan would get in trouble for that. They watched as the confused man wandered towards them. Athos knew what it felt like to sober up after a long drinking session, he pitied his friend, even if he thought d'Artagnan deserved the pain.

As d'Artagnan reached them Aramis shuffled along the bench a little to allow him to sit down. As the untidy Musketeer lowered himself gingerly to the bench he started to speak. But what he said made no sense.

'I had to come back,' he said. 'The building was broken...couldn't stop...get back to the garrison. My mission...get back to the garrison.'

'You're back at the garrison now,' said Porthos. 'When did you leave the tavern?'

D'Artagnan looked at Porthos for a few seconds, 'I'm not in a tavern. I was in the broken building...wrote it down.'

'D'Artagnan?' said Aramis. 'Are you alright?'

'We should get him inside, Treville should not see him like this,' said Athos, glancing around as he spoke.

Their Captain had encouraged them to take a few hours to relax before what would no doubt be a taxing assignment but d'Artagnan appeared to have gone a bit far.

'Wrote it down...need to tell the Captain,' d'Artagnan was blinking and wavering a bit.

When he tried to stand up again, he stumbled to the floor.

'Whoa,' said Porthos. 'You need to lie down, even Athos doesn't get this bad.'

Athos glared at him, 'I shall take that as a compliment,' he said through gritted teeth.

Aramis had moved off the bench and crouched beside d'Artagnan who was trying to undo his doublet.

'Get back to the garrison...wrote words down...I've forgotten them…'

Athos could see genuine concern on Aramis' face. The field medic reached up and gently felt d'Artagnan's head. D'Artagnan hissed and pulled away, pushing Aramis' hand off him.

'Have you fallen over?' asked Aramis.

D'Artagnan just looked at him. Aramis looked up at Athos and Porthos.

'He's got a bump on the back of his head. I think he's been unconscious.'

'That would explain why he's behaving like that,' remarked Porthos.

D'Artagnan was pulling at his doublet again.

'Does he mean it?' asked Athos. 'That he's written something down?'

Aramis gently peeled d'Artagnan's fingers away from the buttons on his dusty doublet and undid the top two. The crumpled paper was tucked into his jacket, Aramis eased it out and handed it to Athos before returning his attention to the injured man.

Athos opened the paper, he read the scrawled words recognising d'Artagnan's writing.

'I need to get this to Treville,' he said.

'Go,' said Porthos, 'we'll take care of him.'

Athos nodded his thanks and ran to the stable.

MMMM

Athos' horse was already saddled, it only took him a couple of minutes to check his tack and mount up. He urged the horse out of the garrison as Aramis and Porthos were helping a very confused looking d'Artagnan into the infirmary.

D'Artagnan's scribbled notes indicated that he had seen some of the plotters meeting and talking about their plan to assassinate the King. Athos knew the Captain would need to be updated as soon as possible, it appeared the plot was moving quicker than they had first thought. If d'Artagnan had not seen the meeting they would not know that explosives were to be employed. D'Artagnan had also written brief descriptions of the men involved, although it appeared his friend had not had a very good view of the men. But as they had no idea who was involved other than Gerard any information was useful. Athos wondered what had happened to d'Artagnan to leave him in the state he was. He did not appear to have been involved in a fight, but something underhand had happened to him.

It was early enough in the morning that the streets were still relatively quiet. Athos would have liked to progress a little quicker, but his pace was still more than it would have been later in the day. As the Palace came into view Athos wondered what Gerard hoped to gain with his assassination. D'Artagnan's note mentioned a coup and preventing the Duke of Orleans from taking the throne which would rightfully be his should the King die childless.

Athos knew the information d'Artagnan had gathered would not be enough to put a stop to Gerard, but it was enough to confirm Treville's suspicions. Athos had no doubt that the source that had passed the information to the Captain was legitimate, but he was happier now that they had additional information. Even if that information had come at a cost to his young friend.

Athos slowed the horse and dismounted near the side entrance to the Palace. He handed the reins to one of the stable boys who were posted around the Palace to assist visitors.

'I probably will not be long,' he said to the sandy-haired boy.

The boy nodded and moved off with the horse to stand him in the shade of the nearest tree.

Athos greeted the Musketeers on duty at the door with a nod and made his way into the Palace. He did not know where the Captain would be but suspected he would be near the King. The King liked having his Musketeer Captain nearby to use as a sounding board and occasional confidant.

Courtiers wandered along the corridors; Athos cursed them under his breath as he moved around them. A hubbub of activity in one of the reception rooms drew Athos' attention; he had found what he was looking for. The King was surrounded by courtiers talking to a diplomat. Athos did not bother to follow the conversation as he circled around the group. The King seemed annoyed at the diplomat and was making his feeling felt, his voice raised a little.

Treville was standing a few yards behind the King. He was staring straight ahead; Athos could tell his Captain was seething. He suspected the King was making a mistake with his diatribe against the diplomat. Athos made eye contact with his Captain who looked almost relieved to have an excuse to step away from the arguing monarch. They quietly moved to a side room leaving the nobles to argue amongst themselves.

'There has been a development,' said Athos quietly.

Treville looked confused.

'Baron Gerard.'

'It's not even mid-morning,' said Treville. 'How can you have found out...anything yet?'

Athos sighed, 'd'Artagnan overheard some men talking last night-'

'Last night? Then why am I only hearing this now?'

Athos raised a hand to stop his Captain.

'Captain,' he said. 'D'Artagnan was injured somehow, he only made it back to the garrison a short time ago.'

He pulled the scrawled note from his doublet and handed it to Treville, who took it, the confused look returning to his face.

'It seems,' continued Athos, 'that d'Artagnan was unconscious for a while, he cannot remember what happened. He was somewhat confused when he made it to the garrison. He must have made these notes when he was listening to the men.'

Athos watched as Treville read the notes, his eyebrows raising as he took in the information.

'We're lucky he was able to make these notes,' said Treville once he had read the scribbled writing twice.

Treville wandered towards the door linking to the room where the King could still be heard berating the diplomat. He stood, lost in thought for a few seconds before turning back to Athos.

'I take it Aramis and Porthos know what this is all about now?' he asked.

'I gave them some details this morning before d'Artagnan returned. When I left them, they were taking d'Artagnan to the infirmary, Aramis was quite concerned about the head injury he has.'

Treville nodded, 'that's fine. I think you would be better alone for what I have in mind.'

Athos waited for further instructions. Treville moved away from the door, further into the room. He stopped by an ornate fireplace; Athos followed him. Treville spoke quietly despite the chances of them being overheard being slim.

'The Baron won't be at home at the moment. I've been monitoring his movements for the last couple of weeks. He sees a woman, for a few hours a couple of times a week. His house will be empty. He's very secretive, doesn't allow any of his staff to stay in the house if he's not there...I'm actually surprised he's not come to our attention before, his behaviour is strange.'

Treville shook his head. Athos wondered if the Captain felt to blame for not guessing Gerard would eventually be involved in a plot to assassinate the King.

'Search his house. See if you can find something, anything, that could incriminate him. Anything that indicates who these other men are.'

Athos nodded, 'I understand.'

MMMM

'Guess we'll have to remain in the dark for a bit longer,' said Porthos as he watched Athos disappear into the stable.

Aramis nodded, 'although,' he said, 'at the moment I'm more concerned about d'Artagnan. Help me get him to the infirmary. This confusion worries me.'

'Get back to the garrison…'

'D'Artagnan,' said Aramis, 'you are back at the garrison. You are safe.'

D'Artagnan looked at Aramis for a few seconds before nodding.

'Tired,' he said.

'I know,' said Aramis.

Porthos moved to the injured man's other side, he copied Aramis' actions of gently easing d'Artagnan up to stand. The confused man allowed them to walk him slowly towards the infirmary.

'Will he be alright?'

Aramis shook his head, 'I don't know. Head injuries are always difficult. And we don't know what else has happened to him.'

Porthos sighed. They had all taken knocks to the head at one point or the other, showing signs of confusion was not uncommon but it was unnerving. Porthos knew they would have to keep a careful eye on their friend for the next few days.

D'Artagnan had gone quiet, Porthos wondered if he was trying to work out what was going on. They sat him on the edge of one of the beds and started to strip him of his filthy clothes.

'I wonder what happened to him?' said Aramis as he eased the young man's arms from the sleeves of his doublet.

'What did he say, something about a…' Porthos paused, thinking back to the confused words d'Artagnan had managed when he had first returned, 'broken building or something.'

Porthos took the doublet and brushed it down sending dust and small lumps of brick across the floor.

'Was he caught in an explosion?'

Aramis looked at d'Artagnan who was watching the dust particles that had been caught in the sunlight that was streaming through the window.

'Didn't one of the cadets say there had been an earthquake earlier?' said Porthos.

They had laughed at the cadet at the time, but now Porthos wondered if the lad had heard an explosion.

'Near the closed church…' said d'Artagnan who seemed to have been able to follow their conversation. 'Can't remember the name...sorry.'

Porthos smiled, he crouched down in front of d'Artagnan, 'I think you've done some good work, but you can't remember it. You wrote some notes and Athos' taken them to the Captain. You're off duty now.'

D'Artagnan nodded.

'Are you hurt? Anywhere other than your head?' asked Aramis as he eased d'Artagnan around on the bed and gently pushed him back against the pillows.

'Don't think so…'

D'Artagnan was blinking again, his eyes closing for longer and longer.

'Keep an eye on him whilst I get some water. We'll get him cleaned up and let him sleep,' Aramis paused watching the sleeping man for a few seconds, 'he did really well. I hope he remembers what he did when he wakes up.'

Aramis wandered off to collect what he needed. Porthos pulled over a chair and sat by the sleeping Musketeer.

Porthos watched as d'Artagnan roused slightly for a few seconds before slipping back to a restful sleep. He smiled, their friend had managed, despite the odds, to get back to them. They could sort out the whys and hows later.

MMMM

Athos knew it had been a mistake to climb the wall and try to break into the house from the back. It seemed so simple at the time, no one was in the house, not even any servants. As Gerard was currently being entertained by his mistress, Athos thought he would have no issue breaking in.

Athos was wrong.

Gerard had two dogs.

Two big dogs.

That were loose.

The large enclosed back garden had looked empty when he had dropped down from the wall. No other houses overlooked the garden. Athos had walked confidently across the manicured lawn, passed an impressive oak tree that dominated the centre of the lawn. He had reached the back of the house and was looking at the lock on the back door, trying to decide if he should pick the lock or just break in. If he broke in he would not have to worry about making a mess to look for any incriminating evidence against the Baron.

A low growl behind him made him freeze. He turned slowly and looked at the owner of the growl.

The snarling dark brown dogs were standing a few yards from him. One had slightly bowed its head, its ears back, baring teeth that looked far to big. The other, with a darker face than the first, paced a few feet to the side, trying to block Athos' easiest escape route. Athos guessed the dogs were well trained. They certainly knew he should not have been where he was.

He did not want to shoot the dogs; he could not draw attention to himself. He was in the enclosed rear garden of a very secretive man; it was obvious he was trespassing.

Athos glanced towards the wall he had climbed over to gain entrance to the garden, on the other side he had been able to move an abandoned wooden chest to gain enough height to reach the top. He had not planned to leave in the same manner, he had expected to slip out via the side gate, which he would have unlocked from the inside.

The black-faced dog was preventing Athos from escaping with ease via the gate. His only option was the wall. The dogs were standing their ground, they had not advanced on Athos. Were they waiting for him to make the first move? Perhaps they were trained to keep intruders' captive until their master returned.

He looked at the wall, there were enough points of erosion to give him places to grab onto and push up from. The problem was he did not think he could be quick enough. The big dogs would be on him before he reached the wall.

Slowly he eased his main gauche from the back of his belt, the dogs watched his every move. The growling dog took a couple of slow steps forward as Athos moved. When he had freed the main gauche Athos moved it back and forth a couple of times. The dog's eyes followed the movement. Athos threw the parrying dagger as far away from him as he could. Both dogs followed it, bounding the few yards within seconds.

Athos did not wait, he ran, he knew the gate was only around the corner of the house, in a narrow alleyway between the high perimeter wall and the light grey stone of the main house. He reached the alleyway and tore along it to the gate. He could see the two bolts as he skidded to a halt, as he reached for the lower one, he heard the tap of many claws on stone. The big dogs were after him. He looked up, the gate was not as high as the fence, he reached up and grabbed the top of the gate and started to haul himself up, he had nothing to use for his feet to gain purchase. Athos managed to get one arm hooked over the top, ready to pull his body up.

But he was too late, the dogs were on him.

MMMM


	4. Chapter 4

He felt the strong jaws from one of the dogs clamp down on his booted ankle, dragging him back to the ground. He fell heavily, twisting onto his side he elbowed the dog away, catching it across the jaw. The dog gave a small yelp and backed off a few feet. Athos knew he had no choice, he had to shoot the dog. He wrenched his gun from his belt and raised it to aim at the dog which was already starting to advance on him.

The darker faced dog had managed to work its way up the alleyway beside its fellow canine, Athos was focused on the snarling dog, not noticing the darker dog until it was too late. As he went to pull the trigger, the darker dog moved forward, biting down on his wrist. With a reflex action Athos pulled the trigger, the snarling dog yelped and scampered back. But Athos had no time to worry about how badly injured the other dog was, his sole focus was on the darker dog which was trying to shake its head and pull at his arm.

The leather of his doublet was taking most of the impact of the dogs vicious looking teeth, but the sheer force of the bite caused Athos to cry out in pain. He could feel his arm being crushed, he wondered if one of the bones in his forearm would break. Something at the back of his mind kept telling him the dog biting his arm was the least of his worries.

The other dog.

He managed to look in the direction it had stumbled off. Sure enough, it was starting to advance on him again, from his prone position on the ground, pulling at his arm trying to get free, the second dog looked much bigger than it had done before. The blood dripping from its side did not seem to be slowing it down. Athos wondered if the dog was only still alive through sheer determination.

Knowing he had to deal with the advancing dog, taking advantage of the darker dog's distraction of trying to rip his arm off, Athos managed to reach his boot and pull a dagger from it. The thought of letting the dog get close enough to him to plunge the blade into it was not something he really wanted to do. The snarl had not been diminished since its injury if anything the dog seemed more determined to hurt him. Athos pulled at his arm, still held captive by the other dog, briefly before going back to concentrating on where he was going to strike the advancing salivating hound.

He kicked at the dog which backed off a couple of paces before moving to the side, taking advantage of every inch of the width of the alleyway. The dog knew it would have more of an impact by attacking Athos' body and head. Athos readied the dagger, holding it as firmly as his rapidly diminishing energy would allow.

The dog paused, Athos was sure it narrowed its eyes at him, before launching, Athos stabbed upwards, catching the dog in the throat. A lucky thrust for him. Unlucky for the dog. The momentum carried the dog forward, as it landed on Athos it was still. With a second surge of strength, Athos pushed the dog off him, towards the other dog that was still biting down on his arm. The dog let him go, barking loudly, backing off a few paces.

Athos did not believe he had won; he wrenched the dagger from the other dog's throat. He twisted towards the second dog before it had time to move too far back, bringing the dagger down on the back of its neck. With a yelp the dog moved off, trying to shake the dagger free.

The energy left him, he flopped back to the ground, panting. He stared at the sky. He closed his eyes for a few seconds.

He could not pass out. Not where he was. He had to get off Gerard's property. He tipped his head back and looked at the gate behind him, he lifted his right arm and pulled at the lower bolt, drawing it back with ease.

Slowly and surely, he twisted over and pushed himself up. He looked at his left arm, the leather of his doublet was wet from the dog's saliva. He resisted the urge to push the sleeve up, instead he pushed the injured limb into his doublet. With a fortifying breath, Athos pushed himself up to stand, reaching out with his good hand to steady himself. After opening the top bolt on the gate and checking that the dying dog had not returned, Athos slipped away.

MMMM

D'Artagnan looked up as Treville walked through the door. His immediate reaction was to apologise to his Captain, but before he could speak Treville shook his head.

'No, d'Artagnan, you have nothing to blame yourself about. The notes you made; they've helped us. If you hadn't had made notes, we would have been none the wiser what had happened to you.'

Aramis smiled, 'I told you he'd not blame you.'

'How is he?' asked Treville, looking towards his field medic.

D'Artagnan rolled his eyes, 'I'm not allowed to tell you myself?'

Treville chuckled, 'go on then.'

'I have a horrible headache and generally am bruised all over. We think I was in a building that collapsed or exploded.'

'The broken building,' said Porthos with a smirk.

'That's what I was calling it when I got back here apparently,' said d'Artagnan trying to hide his embarrassment.

Treville held out the notes that d'Artagnan had made. He took them and read the words, recognising his handwriting. The writing was hurried. He shook his head.

'Sorry,' he said, 'I've no recollection. I should have written down the address…'

Porthos said, 'why? You were making notes of things you thought were important, details about what you were hearing and seeing. You weren't to know something would happen that would make you forget where it happened. Remembering the address would have been easy...if a building hadn't fallen on you.'

D'Artagnan could see the sense in what his friend was saying but could not help but continue to feel guilty.

'Where's Athos?' asked Aramis.

'Gone to search Gerard's house. I've been keeping an eye on him for the past couple of weeks. He visits a woman a couple of times a week, he'll be busy for a few hours. Athos should be back soon. Hopefully, I will be able to fill you all in on exactly what is happening when he gets back.'

'Good,' said Porthos, 'it's about time we learned what's going on.'

MMMM

Athos would have preferred the cover of darkness to help conceal him as he made his way back to the garrison. It was obvious he was injured; he could not hide it. He was limping from where the dog had bitten his ankle and dragged him to the ground, and he knew his wrist was at best badly bruised at worst broken. He cradled his right arm with his left. Keeping to the side of the street he reached an alleyway, he turned into it intending to use the back alleys to get as close to the garrison as he could. He did not want help from anyone too close to Gerard home or questions would be asked. Gerard would know he had been visited when he returned home and found his dogs in less than perfect health.

He glanced behind him. Two men were following him. He had not noticed anyone watching the house as he had stumbled away. The men did not look the sort that would help him. Athos contemplated returning to the main road and seeking help from a passer-by, but he was denied the chance. The men were on him before he could turn back.

Athos had lost most of his weapons during his tussle with the dogs. He swung a punch at the first man but had little impact, the man grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him back against the nearest wall. The move knocked the air out of him, the man who only had one eye, sneered at him.

'You ain't gonna cause us any more problems,' said the man.

Athos detected a Spanish accent.

The man shifted his position slightly, Athos tried to deflect the knife but was too slow, the blade was pushed into his side firmly. The one-eyed man looked satisfied with his work. He released Athos who could not stop himself from crumpling to the floor. He pressed his left hand against the wound. The second man stepped forward and kicked him. Athos could not prevent the kick, he fell to his side and tried to curl up before further kicks were made. The two men kicked and punched him for a few seconds. Athos knew it was only seconds. He knew he could not stop the assault so simply lay on the ground and counted in his head. Once he had reached fifteen the men stopped. He opened his eyes and watched blearily as they simply walked away.

Athos guessed the men thought their job was done.

The men were wrong.

Pooling every last ounce of strength Athos pushed himself up to sit. He looked in the direction the men had gone for a few minutes as he settled his breathing. He wondered if he was about to repeat d'Artagnan's walk through the city whilst injured. His friend had mumbled several times that he had needed to get back to the garrison. Athos knew that the mission d'Artagnan had set himself was now one that he had to take on.

He pressed his hand firmly over the stab wound. He was forced to use his injured right arm to steady himself as he staggered to his feet.

The back alleys would lead him to within a few streets of the garrison. He could do it. He just had to persevere.

MMMM

'Athos?'

Aramis walked with increasing pace towards his friend. The Musketeer had walked through the gate at one of the rare moments it was unguarded. He was leaning heavily on the wall, his right arm held tightly in front of him. As he stumbled forward bruises on his face were revealed. A nasty graze on his forehead added to his beaten appearance.

The Musketeer looked at Aramis as he reached him.

'I didn't get it,' he slurred before crumpling to the ground.

Aramis yelled for help before kneeling by the unconscious man. Making a lightning assessment of his friends health proved difficult, Athos was lying on his side, his face towards the ground, his obviously injured arm prevented Aramis from undoing Athos doublet.

'What happened?' asked Porthos from behind him.

Aramis twisted around, 'he just turned up like this, said something about not getting it, before passing out.'

Two cadets had appeared behind Porthos. Aramis indicated for them to help him.

'Tell Treville,' said Aramis to Porthos. 'This must have something to do with Gerard.'

Porthos nodded, 'I think it's about time we were fully briefed.'

As Porthos hurried off to update their Captain, Aramis followed the cadets who were carrying the unconscious Musketeer into the infirmary.

'You stay right there,' said Aramis as he passed a very concerned d'Artagnan. 'I'm not having you collapsing whilst I deal with this.'

D'Artagnan nodded and remained where he was.

'Remy,' Aramis turned to the blond cadet. 'I need you to find the physician, ask him to come here. I may not need him, but as we now have two ailing soldiers, I think it would be worth his while to visit.'

The cadet left to follow his order. Aramis glanced at d'Artagnan.

'I don't know what happened,' Aramis said in answer to the unasked question. 'But we think it has something to do with whatever you found out...you don't happen to have remembered yet?'

D'Artagnan shook his head. Aramis sighed and returned his attention to Athos. The other cadet, Paul, was about to touch Athos' arm.

'No,' said Aramis. 'It's injured in some way. We'll cut his jacket; I don't know where else he's hurt.'

The cadet moved to a cupboard and began to gather cloths and bandages.

'There are scissors to your left,' said Aramis as he started to gently feel his friend's arm.

Athos groaned but did not wake up.

'What have you two been up to?' wondered Aramis with a glance to d'Artagnan.

The other injured Musketeer shook his head.

'I still have no idea. I'm sorry.'

Paul had found the scissors, he handed them to Aramis who glanced at Athos apologetically before starting to carefully cut his friend's doublet. Between them, Aramis and Paul eased the jacket off his friend. Aramis' eyes went wide when Athos' shirt was revealed. Bloodstained a large portion of the once white fabric. Aramis quickly ripped the shirt to reveal a wound which was still bleeding. Grabbing one of the cloths, Aramis pressed it to the wound. The move caused Athos to moan again.

'Hold him still. He can't move too much…'

Paul did as he was told, pushing Athos arms down, pinning him to the bed.

'What is it?' asked d'Artagnan from across the room.

'He's been shot or stabbed. I don't know which. It's still bleeding...I need help - not from you - from the doctor. This needs proper care, more than I can give.'

Aramis knew he could give rudimentary help, he could deal with most battlefield injuries in the first instance, but he was no surgeon, and that was what Athos needed.

The door to the infirmary was pushed open. Porthos appeared, leading Treville.

'I've sent one of the cadets for the doctor,' said Aramis with only a glance at the new arrivals.

Treville looked at Athos for a few seconds before moving to Aramis' side. He eased Aramis' hands away, replacing them with his own.

'Deal with his other injuries. The less that will need to be done when the doctor arrives the better.'

Aramis nodded. His Captain was right. He could still help his friend even if he could not deal with what he hoped was the most serious injury.

MMMM

'Paul,' said Treville, 'find more cloths...make them if you have to. Fresh linen cut it up. Find someone to help you.'

Paul nodded and rushed from the room. Porthos moved across to Treville who had just changed the cloth covering Athos' wound. He wadded up the next cloth.

'I'll take over,' he said, wanting to help his injured friend.

Treville nodded.

'Just keep firm pressure on it,' said Aramis without looking up.

Porthos watched Aramis gently feeling along Athos bruised forearm. They had all been shocked at the severity of the bruises.

'I'm sure it's not broken, just really badly bruised. I'll strap it up for now. The doctor may suggest something else.'

Treville stepped back to allow Porthos to replace the pressure on the wound to Athos' side. The wound was still bleeding, the floor of the infirmary was littered with bloody cloths. The Cadet was still watching the wounded man carefully, ready to restrain Athos if necessary. Porthos had not seen any further sign of their friend coming around. The lack of any response from Athos was a mixed blessing, it meant he did not have to be restrained but they also had no idea what had happened to him.

The door was pushed open as the doctor, a sensible man named Henri, entered, closely followed by Remy who looked a little out of breath. Henri put his bag on the table and began to shrug out of his doublet. Remy took the jacket and the man's hat from him.

'Talk to me,' said the no-nonsense doctor.

Aramis straightened up, 'he's been stabbed or shot. I don't know which, the wound is deep and bleeding a lot...I'm already worried he's lost too much…'

The doctor looked over Aramis' shoulder, 'his other injuries?'

'Nothing I can't deal with, monsieur.'

Henri nodded, 'then deal with it. Just do not get in my way.'

Aramis nodded, Porthos wondered if Aramis was pleased to be relieved from dealing with the most serious injury. As his friend quietly continued his work, he indicated to Remy to assist him. They worked calmly cleaning and dressing the numerous grazes and cuts Athos had across his body.

Henri looked at Porthos, 'you will assist me. Do as I ask when I ask without question. I shall do all I can to save your friend, although he will be mostly responsible for his own survival.'

Porthos nodded, he knew that half the battle of recovery was down to the injured man to believe he could get better. The doctor eased Porthos hands from the wound for a few seconds. Porthos watched as the blood appeared, spilling from the wound. The doctor made a disapproving sound before indicating for Porthos to reapply the pressure.

'Continued pressure for now. It looks like a narrow blade. No ball to dig out.'

Porthos asked, 'are you going to stitch it?'

The doctor shook his head, 'we will clean it as well as we can, but the chance of infection means I do not want to have to remove any stitches. We will keep a close eye on it.'

Porthos maintained the pressure as the doctor had ordered. He watched Aramis and Remy slowly and methodically working, covering the worst of the other injuries, applying ointments and salves where they could.

Treville huffed with annoyance, Porthos knew that their Captain could not tell them why Athos had been attacked at that moment. Now two Musketeers had been harmed. Porthos wanted to know why they had not learned enough of what was going on to fully understand. He glanced at d'Artagnan who was watching them work. Treville moved to sit with d'Artagnan. Porthos could hear the pair talking quietly. D'Artagnan told Treville he still could not remember where he was when he had been hurt.

The doctor lay his hand on Porthos' gently pulling them away from the wound. The bleeding had stopped.

'I need to clean it thoroughly. Hold him still.'

Porthos and Aramis moved to hold their friend down. As the doctor began to clean the stab wound Athos reacted, his eyes opened wide and he cried out in pain. He tried to pull away from his friends. The doctor worked quickly, using a mixture of his own creation to clean the injury. After cleaning the wound and wiping away the blood, Henri covered the wound and awkwardly wrapped a bandage around Athos who was still weakly fighting them all.

As his struggles became weaker, they released him, Athos finally relaxed his breathing settling. Porthos was pleased to see Athos remain conscious, even if he looked a little unfocused.

'There...there was a dog. Two dogs…'

Aramis looked up, 'the bruise on his arm. It could be a bite.'

Porthos watched Athos nod before he continued, 'when I got away from the dogs. I was stopped by two men...I think they were in his pay-'

'Who's pay?' asked Aramis, before pausing and glancing at the doctor.

Henri chuckled, 'I am on my way,' he said. 'You can talk about affairs of state freely.'

Porthos smiled at the doctor, 'thank you.'

'Athos,' said the doctor, 'you lost a lot of blood. You will remain calm and unmoving. You will let them do everything for you.'

The doctor glanced at the other men in the room who all nodded.

'If the wound becomes infected, we will deal with it.'

The doctor patted Athos' shoulder waited for his patient to nod his ascent before stepping away.

'Remy,' said Treville, 'will you show the doctor out?'

Once they were alone the Captain moved to a position where they could all see him, he sighed.

'I think it is time that you all learned what it is that has caused two of you to be nearly killed.'

MMMM

D'Artagnan managed to push himself up to sit a little straighter. He watched as Porthos helped Athos to sit up a little, pillows pushed behind the injured man to help prop him up. Athos looked pale but mostly focused. Aramis handed Athos a drink. The Musketeer looked at the medic for a few seconds before taking a swig, pulling an unappreciative face as he did so. Treville waited for them to settle before he filled in Aramis and Porthos all that he knew, which was not much about Baron Gerard and the plot to kill the King. Aramis shook his head, Porthos rolled his eyes. The plot was nothing new, the King was constantly under threat, but it still had to be taken seriously.

'We know now that the plot is moving forward,' said Treville, 'we know there are explosives involved, thanks to d'Artagnan.'

D'Artagnan sighed, 'I still can't remember anything though,' he said.

'But we have your notes,' Treville reminded him. 'And the attack on Athos appears to have been made by people involved somehow. We don't know who is ultimately at the top of the chain.'

'The men that attacked me were Spanish, they implied I - or perhaps the Musketeers - were causing them problems. They had to be involved,' said Athos. 'I am sorry, rather like d'Artagnan I cannot remember much about them, I was already weakened by the dog attack.'

Athos stared off into the distance for a few seconds. D'Artagnan thought he looked a little uneasy. Was he reliving the attack, d'Artagnan was sure the attack by the men would not affect him, but the dog attack was a bit different.

'Will Gerard know that you were at his house?' asked Treville.

Athos nodded, 'I killed the dogs. I didn't get as far as breaking into the house though. He would not know what I was there for. But, if the men that attacked me - the Spanish men that attacked me - were in the pay of whoever is working with Gerard, then they know that we are at least interested in him.'

'This does not change anything; the investigations will continue. We need to find out who is at the top of this and what the Spanish involvement is. From d'Artagnan's notes, it appears to be an assassination followed by a coup.'

'Could we try to reason with Gerard. He probably hasn't worked out that he is being used by them. Perhaps he will give them up?' asked d'Artagnan.

Porthos shook his head, 'he won't believe us. And then we'd lose the chance to get to the man at the top. He will be being watched.'

'It is unfortunate,' continued Treville, 'but we have to let this play out. He does not know how much we know-'

'We don't know much,' interjected Porthos with a huff.

'But we will be on his guard and expecting us to continue to watch him. To that end, I would like one of you to watch his house for a few hours. No need to hide in the shadows, but don't make it very obvious.'

D'Artagnan felt a little annoyed that he would not be able to help with the investigations for a while. He was ready to admit that he was not up to full duties. His head still hurt and he was starting to feel tired again, now that the shock of seeing the aftermath of the attack on Athos had settled down. Aramis was quick to volunteer to watch the house for a few hours.

'Can I look for the thugs that attacked Athos?' asked Porthos.

Treville nodded, 'yes, it would be odd if we did not actively look for the attackers. Arrest them, don't seek revenge though.'

Treville looked at Porthos for several seconds. Porthos nodded slowly. Treville had not said that the arrest could not be unpleasant, thought d'Artagnan, revenge would be had by Porthos in some form or another.

MMMM


	5. Chapter 5

After swapping his uniform for a plain doublet and simple weapons Aramis left the garrison and walked towards Gerard home. He knew that the Baron would probably be returning to the house within a few minutes. Aramis wanted to be in place for the man's arrival. Although he did not have to watch the house covertly, he did not want to advertise what he was doing. If the Baron was updated by the Spaniards that Athos had been seen leaving the property Gerard would probably expect to be watched, but Aramis did not want to draw the attention of other people who might start to ask questions.

He reached the house in time to see Gerard pushing his door open. If the Baron had not been updated by his contacts about the intruder, Aramis guessed it might take him a few minutes to find the aftermath of the fight between Athos and the dogs. He wondered what the man's reaction would be. If he had not been updated, he might think the dogs were killed by a random burglar.

Aramis found a comfortable spot under a large tree, its exposed roots providing him with a place to sit and watch the house opposite. There were other people in the street. He did not look out of place. He quickly decided if anyone asked, he would say he was waiting for friends from the hotel further along the road. The late afternoon was pleasant and warm enough to linger outside.

The Baron appeared at his doorway, he looked up and down the road for a few seconds before beckoning to a boy that was walking past. He spoke to the boy for a few minutes before pressing a coin into his hand. The boy nodded and scampered off. Aramis came to the conclusion that the Baron did not know who had tried to break into his property, but that he was not taking any chances. Had Gerard sent a message to the Spanish? Aramis was annoyed he had been sent to watch the house alone if there had been two of them one of them could have followed the boy.

Gerard, a man in his forties, watched the boy go before glancing around again and disappearing back into his house. A few minutes later two women arrived at the house, rather than enter through the front door they walked around to the side and went in through the gate. Aramis was not surprised to hear a brief shocked scream from one of the women. He suspected they had found the dogs. A man's voice, probably Gerard's, berated the woman. One of the women left soon afterwards returning with a couple of men that could only be described as rough. They all went around the side of the house. The men reappeared a few minutes later each carrying a heavy-looking sack over their shoulders. The dogs were being disposed of elsewhere. Aramis wondered which shop would have some cheap meat for their pies the next day.

'You seem rather interested in that house?'

Aramis looked up at the owner of the voice that had spoken to him. She smiled down at him, her head slightly tilted. The last rays of the sun were catching her blonde hair making it hazy. She was well dressed, but not ostentatiously so.

Aramis smiled, 'I'm an observant man,' he said, 'although I will admit I did not notice you until you spoke, which is most remiss of me.'

The woman, who was probably in her late twenties, smiled shyly, she lowered her face and looked at Aramis through her eyelashes. Aramis wondered if she was genuinely flattered or just pretending, humouring him. Either way, she was a pleasant distraction. He could observe the house and enjoy the company of the young lady for a few minutes at the same time.

'What are you observing?' asked the young woman with a look at the house for a few seconds before she returned her gaze to Aramis.

Aramis knew he could not tell the woman what he was actually doing, but he had to give her something that would satisfy her curiosity.

'I was not really observing it, I was imagining what it would be like to afford such a large house. I'm only a clerk, I live in rooms in the centre of the city. Living here, in this quiet idyll is something I can only dream about.'

The woman nodded.

'Do you live near here?' asked Aramis. 'Do you live there?'

He pointed at Gerard's house.

The woman laughed, 'no. I'm waiting for my fiancé. He works for the man who owns that house.'

She pointed at the house behind Aramis. He glanced around. The house was a little bigger than Gerard's. Aramis nodded his approval.

'Is he the jealous type?' asked Aramis. 'Your fiancé? He won't challenge me to a duel for talking to you, will he? I'm surprised he doesn't have you escorted everywhere, to make sure you are safe at all times.'

Aramis gave the woman his winning smile. She giggled. Aramis wished he had such pretty company every time he had to watch the enemy.

MMMM

It always felt odd to Porthos when he was out of uniform. Ever since he had first been commissioned, he had hated being without his pauldron. He was a Musketeer, he belonged. Except when he was working undercover, he was still a Musketeer, but nobody else knew that. He was just another face in the crowd, an imposing face, he knew that, but still just another face.

He walked towards Gerard's house; Athos had been able to give him a reasonable description of the men that had attacked him. Porthos knew the generic clothing the men had worn would not help him locate them, but the physical descriptions might. Two thuggish men, one with only one eye. If they were still together Porthos would find them. He had already spoken to a few locals, traders who knew him as a Musketeer and were happy to help him out. One had suggested he try a small tavern that they rarely frequented.

The tavern was located along a dark alleyway, everything about the area screamed murder. Porthos kept his wits about him, his hand never far from his dagger. In keeping with his covert mission, he had removed most of his weapons. The lack of uniform and weapons made him feel naked. He knew he was perfectly capable of defending himself without weapons, but it was always good to be prepared. All he had with him at that moment was a dagger and a gun tucked into the back of his belt covered by the plain black cloak he was wearing.

The narrow alleyway was dark where the buildings on either side overhung, blocking out the light above. It was reminiscent of the Court of Miracles and like the Court, Porthos suspected there were places a man could stand and not be seen until their prey was in a prime position to be attacked.

A door opened a few yards in front of him. The stench of the tavern wafted out. Stale bread and hot embers from a fire. Porthos watched as a young woman emerged with a leering old man close at her heel, she coquettishly tilted her head at the man who did not take much persuasion to follow her. Porthos guessed the woman would not have to do much to earn her keep that night. They were heading towards the large house on the corner of the road, Porthos remembered it had been a hotel for a few years before the owner got into debt and left Paris overnight. The house did not take long to be given over to the pleasures of the flesh.

As the couple disappeared along the road Porthos pushed the creaking door to the tavern open. The musty smell nearly overpowered him. He descended the four steps to the dusty floor of the tavern. The only light came from a large fire at one end of the room. The far end of the room was in virtual darkness, Porthos could make out a few shapes sat at tables. He made his way towards the bar, a rough table set up in front of a stack of barrels. Porthos suspected there was only one, possibly two, drinks on offer and they were probably watered down even further than most other taverns did.

The scruffy man behind the bar looked up at him, he sneered, gaps in his rotting teeth revealed by the attempt at a greeting.

Porthos had no intention of staying in the establishment any longer than he needed to. He could feel eyes on him. He was a stranger and despite his plainclothes was probably too well dressed for the area. He stood out for the wrong reasons.

He reached out and grabbed the tavern-keepers' hand. The man offered a little resistance and was about to shout until Porthos pressed some coins into his palm. The man stopped his protests and looked at Porthos.

'Two men,' Porthos said. 'Older than me, white, one was missing an eye. The other was pretty much bald. Spanish.'

The man had already recognised the description, but the last part sealed the deal. The keeper nodded.

'I seen 'em,' he said. 'Not 'alf an hour ago. In 'ere, drinking each other's 'elf.'

'Where did they go?'

'One of 'em said somfink about goin' ta tha' whore 'ouse. They were lookin' for a good time.'

The man grinned, his gap-toothed leer.

'The house further down this road?' asked Porthos remembering the young woman and her paying customer walking towards the house.

The man nodded. Porthos smiled before pressing another couple of coins into the man's hand. He retreated from the tavern quickly, back to the clearer air of the street. If the men had been in the house for half an hour, he doubted they would be in there for much longer, if they were still there at all. He hurried along to the house, looking up at the shuttered windows. He shook his head at the thought that there were probably some people working in the house who did not want to. Locked up to keep them there. The young woman he had seen earlier was one of the lucky ones, although he doubted she knew any other life.

Porthos had no intention of entering the house. He found a recessed doorway across the street. He pushed himself into it, his black cloak wrapped about him, concealing him further from anyone who were to pass by and anyone who were to step out of the house.

Porthos waited.

MMMM

D'Artagnan watched Athos sleeping. His friend had fallen into an uneasy sleep once Porthos and Aramis had gone on their respective missions. The assault and loss of blood had caught up with Athos who looked pale. It had been horrific watching as the doctor treated his friend. It had been a tense few minutes as his assortment of injuries was dealt with. When Athos had come around and stayed awake, they were all relieved.

Now that silence had descended on the infirmary d'Artagnan had time to reflect on what had happened. Their mission to collect evidence against Gerard and uncover who was leading the planned assassination had started without any of them really realising it. D'Artagnan guessed he had realised before he had lost his memory. He wished he could remember what had happened to him. He hoped there were no details that had not written down that could be useful. What if he had written something down incorrectly?

He sighed, his own injuries were aching, his head still hurt. He had told the others that he was sufficiently recovered to watch Athos whilst they went about their tasks. Aramis had looked at him sceptically before Porthos had clapped him on the shoulder and pointed out that Athos was not going anywhere so d'Artagnan would not have to do much by way of watching if anything at all.

A low moan and a few muttered curses came from the other bed. Athos twitched his uninjured arm a little as if fending someone or something off. D'Artagnan watched as the bad dream passed. Athos settled again, his breathing evening out.

D'Artagnan wondered if his friend would be more affected by the dog attack than by being stabbed and beaten. Being attacked by men was almost a daily occurrence for them, but having to fight off two determined dogs who had no thought for their own preservation was unusual. Athos would not have been able to predict what the dogs were going to do. His friend could read a man in a swordfight as though he were reading a book, but animals, trained to kill were a different matter entirely.

He decided that he could sleep as well. Athos was settled again, he doubted he would sleep well, he would wake quickly if Athos became distressed.

After easing himself down to lie on the bed, a task that took far longer than he thought it would, d'Artagnan closed his eyes. Falling bricks and masonry filled his vision. He opened his eyes and stared at the solid ceiling of the infirmary above him.

He would not sleep well. Athos had his dogs to fend off and he had falling buildings to contend with.

MMMM

He had not had to wait for long, several customers arrived and left but the two Spaniards emerged soon enough. Both were grinning, the one-eyed man was still doing his breeches up. The scar across the man's face above and below the black eyepatch he wore was similar to Porthos' own. Except the man had been unlucky, where Porthos had been very lucky. He sometimes wondered if it was a good thing that he had no recollection of the strike from the enemy sword that left him with the scar.

The two men were laughing and swapping tales of their conquests as they walked away from the house. Porthos stepped out of the doorway unnoticed by either man. He stepped quietly, keeping to the side of the road, ready to step out of sight if either man were to look back. The darkness of the road was almost complete as the afternoon turned into evening. Porthos checked behind him, no one else was about. He took his chance.

Pulling the dagger from his belt Porthos approached the closer man, he twisted the dagger in his hand, punching the man in the side of the head. The force knocked him to the side of the closest building, smashing his head hard on the stone wall. The man crumpled to the ground. Porthos was not sure if he had killed the man or not. He hoped not, he had been asked to take the men alive so that they could be questioned. But at the same time, they were responsible for attacking one of his friends and they were involved in a plot against the King. He would not feel too guilty if the man was dead.

The second man whirled around. Despite missing an eye, the man had perfect aim with his knife. The knife had been pulled from somewhere in his coat as Porthos was dealing with the other man. The blade of the knife only just missed Porthos' throat, if the Musketeer had reacted a fraction of a second later, he would have felt the blade cutting into his flesh. As it was, he stumbled back slightly. The man took advantage and stepped forward; the knife ready for deployment a second time. Porthos managed to turn his own blade back on the man, slicing into his doublet. He knew the blade had not reached the man's skin; the thick leather would have absorbed the strike. But it was enough of a distraction for Porthos to shove the man back a few steps and gain the upper hand.

A young woman appeared at the entrance to a narrow alleyway between two houses. She was wearing a dark green cloak, a hood covering her hair. She gasped. Porthos saw the one-eyed man look at her, a smile played across his lips. The man was probably thinking about what he had been doing mere minutes before. Perhaps thinking about what he would like to do to the pretty young woman.

'Keep back,' ordered Porthos.

The woman looked at him for a few seconds before glancing at the one-eyed man and retreating the way she had come, Porthos could hear the heels of her shoes tapping on the stone as she went.

'Oi!'

The shout from above them followed by the sound of something hitting the cobbled ground a few feet away distracted them both. Porthos had to sidestep rapidly to avoid whatever was thrown by the disgruntled resident.

The one-eyed man saw his opportunity and ran. By the time Porthos had turned back, he had disappeared from sight. He looked down at the unconscious man lying in the gutter next to him, a bruise blossoming on his cheek.

'Guess it's just you and me then,' he muttered as he contemplated having to carry the man to the Chatelet a few streets away.

MMMM

Treville had been a little annoyed that one of the men had got away, but when Porthos had described the fight to him he understood. The area Porthos had confronted the men in was not the best area to arrest two desperate men. They could only hope the second man did not guess that the man that had attacked them was a Musketeer. With luck, the man that had escaped would simply believe Porthos was a robber looking for victims.

Now back in his uniform Porthos looked more at ease. Treville knew that none of his men liked to be out of uniform. The status they gained with the pauldron and cloak was hard-earned. He walked purposefully towards the Chatelet. Treville had been amused when Porthos had explained that he had spent some time convincing the Chatelet guards who he really was until the over-friendly governor had arrived, recognised him and waved him through the gates.

They reached the imposing gates which were pushed open at their approach Porthos glared at the man on the gate who was trying to pretend he had not been the cause of the Musketeers annoyance earlier in the evening.

'Are you here to see the man you brought in?' asked a short squat guard who seemed reluctant to get up from the table he was sitting at.

He had dropped his soup spoon back into the insipid looking weak liquid that was sloshing about in the roughhewn bowl on his table.

Treville nodded, 'we need to interrogate him. Although our methods might not be up to your standards.'

The guard sneered. It was well known that the interrogation of prisoners was considered an art form by some but barbaric by most.

'You're not gonna get much out of him,' said the man.

Treville just looked at the man, not wishing to humour him with a response.

'He's dead.'

'Dead?'

'Dead.'

Treville glanced at Porthos.

'He was alive when I left him, he'd come around as he was being chained up. He was swearing at me and protesting his innocence.'

'Well, he's dead now.'

'And how did that come about?' asked Treville as they followed the man along the dank corridor.

The man was busy unhooking his keys from his belt, shouting at some of the men in the cells along the corridor. Arms reached out towards them; shaggy bearded men peered from the shadows of the filthy cells. Treville made sure he walked in the centre of the corridor; it was not unheard of for visitors to be grabbed by the prisoners.

'He had a visitor.'

'I told you no one was to see him until I returned,' said Porthos.

'His visitor paid more,' came the simple reply.

Treville heard Porthos growl behind him, the Musketeer was probably very close to thumping the guard, Treville was unsure if he would try to stop him or not.

'What happened?' asked Treville.

'They talked for a bit; I couldn't hear what was said. The visitor left, the prisoner died… Horrible it was, gurgling, choking… took him ages to finally go still.'

'Did you do anything to help him?' asked Treville, his patience very close to snapping.

'Course not, he told us the prisoner was dangerous.'

Porthos sighed with exasperation.

They reached a cell with an open door. The guard pointed into it. The flickering light from the torches along the corridor illuminated the cell and the body within. The man was lying contorted in the centre of the floor, the chains keeping him restrained were stretched out behind him. It appeared he had simply crumpled down, he was in a half-sitting position, his head bowed forward his chin touching his chest. Evidence of the man throwing up could be seen down his sweat-soaked shirt and dirty breeches.

An ornate pewter cup was lying a few feet from the man, his hand resting on the floor was open, palm up, as if the cup had rolled away from him in his dying moments. The man had been poisoned.

'What did the visitor look like?' asked Porthos.

'Taller than me, slim, moved like a cat.'

Porthos sighed again, 'did he had a beard? What colour was his hair?'

'Don't know.'

Treville turned back from the unpleasant sight of the dead man and glared at the guard.

'He had a hooded cloak on. Plain black cloak. The. Hood. Was. Up.'

The man spoke sarcastically at them.

Treville looked at Porthos who was struggling to contain his rage. Treville knew he was not far off thumping the guard at that point.

'Why was the visitor allowed to give the prisoner a drink?' asked Treville.

The guard unhooked a money bag from his belt. It looked heavy.

'They gave me this. I don't get paid much. I looked the other way. I could hear whispers but couldn't make out what they was sayin'. They talked for a bit then the visitor left. A few minutes later the prisoner was chucking up on himself and stinking out my prison.'

Treville had heard enough, he glanced at Porthos who nodded. They both turned away from the guard and walked back the way they had come.

'You're welcome,' said the guard, the sarcasm still dripping from every word.

'I would have compensated you for your time,' said Treville over his shoulder, 'but I think you have more than enough from your previous visitor.'

MMMM

'Where's d'Artagnan disappeared to?' asked Aramis as he closed the door to the infirmary.

'Gone to find some fresh clothes and get us some food,' replied Athos as he pushed himself up to sit.

Aramis hastened across the room and helped him before pushing the blankets off him to check the assorted bandages. Athos allowed his friend to do what he needed to, even suppressing a wince of pain when the probing fingers pressed a little too hard over the stab wound. Aramis noticed.

'Sorry,' he said. 'You really are going to have to take it easy for the next few days. You will have to put up with feeling useless whilst the rest of us carry out the investigations.'

Athos nodded as Aramis rearranged the blankets, tucking them back down and rearranging the pillows slightly to make him more comfortable. Athos stared at him for a few seconds before Aramis broke into a grin.

'You enjoy mollycoddling us far too much,' remarked Athos with a smile of his own. 'How did your assignment go?'

Aramis spent a couple of minutes pulling off his weapons and doublet before pulling a chair over and settling next to his friend.

'It would have been extremely dull had it not been for Elizabeth.'

Athos rolled his eyes, 'you were working-'

'I can watch a house and talk to a pretty young woman at the same time,' said Aramis without hesitation. 'She didn't take too kindly to me asking her if her fiancé was good enough for her… she flounced off after that.'

'Flounced?'

'Tossed her blonde curls, hitched up her dress, patterned with some intricate dark green embroidery, and walked away…'

Aramis looked off into the distance for a few seconds.

'Anyway,' he continued. 'Gerard only had a couple of visitors, and I don't think they were too important. They took the bodies of the dogs away for him. He was in the house, alone, apart from two servants until about thirty minutes ago. The servants left then a few minutes after that he did. I followed him to the Palace. He disappeared inside.'

The door to the infirmary was pushed open by Treville who held the door for d'Artagnan and Porthos, who were both carrying trays of food. Athos was pleased to see d'Artagnan looked more his usual self, a wash and some clean clothes seemed to have done him good.

They settled down to eat. Athos could not manage much but ate a little to appease Aramis who insisted that he at least try to get some food into him. The watered-down wine was much more welcome. They swapped updates on what had happened. The loss of the two men that had attacked him was a blow. Knowing that one was still out there annoyed Athos, although he liked the idea that he might be able to get his own revenge on the one-eyed man.

'I think, gentlemen,' said Treville as they finished their meals. 'That we need to watch Baron Gerard for a little longer. Try to gather more information about the assassination attempt. For now, Aramis, Porthos, you two can take it in turns to follow him. D'Artagnan ones you are fully recovered you can join them. We will keep you updated on all that is happening Athos. Your insight, even from your sickbed will be useful.'

Athos knew he had not hidden his annoyance at the whole situation well.

'You were already injured when you were attacked by those men, Athos. You stood little chance against them. None of us blames you for being assaulted.'

Athos glanced at the others who all nodded their agreement with the Captain.

'It will be tedious, but we will uncover this plot and stop it. With luck, the King won't even need to know.'

MMMM


	6. Chapter 6

_A Fortnight Later…_

D'Artagnan sat on the bench staring off into the distance. He had been running errands for the Captain for most of the day, a job usually reserved for the cadets. He did not mind, he was still not fully recovered from his injuries, the bruises were almost faded but he was not yet presentable enough for guard duty at the Palace. And he could keep an eye on Athos whenever he returned to the garrison.

Athos had spent several days getting increasingly grumpy in the infirmary before Aramis had deemed him well enough to at least annoy the cadets in the garrison yard. D'Artagnan had felt sorry for the newer cadets who did not know what had hit them when they had Athos yelling at them to watch their feet and raise their shoulders. It was not until Porthos had taken pity on the young men and ushered Athos back to the infirmary that their torment had finally ended. None of them had been surprised to find a complete lack of cadets anywhere near Athos the following day. Athos had wandered into the armoury and spent that day cleaning weapons.

The injured Musketeers had waited eagerly each day for updates on the investigations into Baron Gerard. Each day they were disappointed. The Baron was going about his daily business without any suspicious incidents occurring anywhere near him. Aramis and Porthos were dutifully following the man around the city whilst Treville kept an eye on him when he was in the presence of the King. They were almost at the point of having to confront the man just to move their investigations along.

Not for the first time during his recovery and the first few days back at work, d'Artagnan found himself wondering if there was something important he had forgotten when he was knocked out. Was he the one who knew a vital piece of information but he just could not remember it?

A movement beside him pulled him away from his thoughts. Athos was pouring them both a cup of wine. D'Artagnan had not noticed his friend arrive and had been unaware of the bread and cheese being put on the table. Serge was walking back to the mess, muttering something about ungrateful youngsters.

'You will have to apologise to him later,' remarked Athos with a wry smile. 'You were miles away… Still trying to remember what you might have forgotten?'

D'Artagnan nodded, 'what if I know something important. Vital…'

'And what if you do not,' said Athos. 'You could be getting yourself worked up for no reason. If there is something in your head, it will come out eventually. When you are not trying to remember.'

D'Artagnan sighed, 'I know. I just feel guilty-'

Athos gave him one of his glares, 'if anyone should feel guilty it is me. I stupidly got myself cornered and attacked - twice. By dogs,' Athos shook his head with a shudder at the memory, 'and then by those two Spaniards.'

'None of us knew about the dogs,' d'Artagnan reminded him, 'and you were already quite badly injured when the Spaniards got you. If I'm not to feel guilty, neither should you.'

They sat in silence for a few moments. Athos sipped at the wine while d'Artagnan chewed on some of the bread.

'At least we are back on duty now. In a few days, we will be able to help the others. I think Aramis is getting fed up with following the Baron around and Porthos hates going around the city without his uniform,' said Athos.

'Poor them,' said d'Artagnan with a smirk.

MMMM

Porthos stood at ease by the door. The King was sat on his throne with the Queen at his side. Treville stood a respectful few feet away on the other side of the King. The large room was, as usual, filled with courtiers and nobles trying to curry favour with the monarch.

Baron Gerard was waiting for his turn to talk to the King. The man wore his usual doublet, not as ornate as some of the others but a symbol of his wealth and status, nonetheless. The rich green with gold embroidery caught the sunlight along with many of the other shiny silken doublets in the room. Porthos sometimes envied the intricate work the nobles could afford on their doublets. He had paid handsomely for the studded collar on his own doublet, his only extravagance. Apart from his sword and Athos had helped him choose that even going as far as bartering the price down to something he could afford.

In an idle moment, Porthos wondered how his injured friends were getting on. D'Artagnan had been cleared fit for full duty a couple of days before and once his bruises had faded, he would be allowed back on Palace duty. Athos was easing himself back into duty by terrorising cadets and helping Treville with his paperwork. Both his friends had been a little melancholy at not being able to help with the investigations, although both he and Aramis had pointed out that up to that point all they had done was follow the Baron around. They had not learned anything new. It was becoming tedious.

The snivelling minor English Lord was waved away by the King after his requests for help against a more important English Lord were denied. The simpering man scurried off out of the room, almost tripping over his own feet in his haste to retreat.

Baron Gerard stepped forward. Porthos focused his whole attention on the conversation.

'I am disappointed,' said the King, causing a few gasps from the fawning courtiers.

'I do not like to disappoint you, Majesty but I cannot accept the post. I am not suitable for the role-'

'But you know the people Gerard, you would be the most suitable candidate.'

'I cannot be away from my home, Majesty, it is just not practical.'

The King sighed dramatically, 'what can be more important than serving your country, serving you King. I command you.'

'I refuse.'

More gasps from around the room. The argument raged for a few more seconds. Porthos had worked out that the King had offered Gerard the job of ambassador or diplomat or something similar in Spain. They knew the Baron had spent time in Spain and could speak the language and understood the Spanish customs. He was, as the King had pointed out, an ideal candidate. But Porthos also knew Gerard would not want to be sent that far away from the King. He could not be placed on the throne as regent if he was not in the country.

'There are numerous other candidates far more suitable than I.'

'I have asked you and I will not take no as an answer.'

'You will have to, Majesty.'

The King had gone an interesting shade of red, the Queen was looking at him with concern. She was about to speak to him, perhaps to ask him to calm down a little. Before she got the chance, the King rose from his throne. The courtiers all quickly bowed respectfully. The King closed the gap between himself and the Baron who stood his ground.

'In which case, Baron,' said the King, his fury barely contained, 'you will have to leave the Palace. I do not want to have sight of you anymore. Go back to your chateau and be grateful I have not taken it from you. I am not sure if you are even fit to be one of my Barons.'

The King turned on his heel and walked from the room. The assembled courtiers parting like a wave before him, bowing as he went. After a few seconds, the Queen rose from her chair and followed her husband, a look of sympathy on her face as she passed the Baron. The courtiers gradually followed the King. Treville made eye contact with Porthos and nodded towards the Baron, who had remained where he was. Porthos understood. As the last of the courtiers left the room in the King's wake Gerard followed them to the door, but rather than following, he turned the other way and walked along the corridor and out of the Palace, walking towards his home in the city.

As Porthos was still in his uniform he had to be careful he was not spotted by the Baron. As the man turned into his road a young man approached him, dressed in black, with a black woollen hat pulled low over his head and moving with poise the man had the look of a dancer. Porthos had seen the lithe man at court when the King had demanded he be entertained by dancing. He could not see the man's face; he could only make out that he was slim and moved with a cat-like poise. Porthos was reminded of tales of warriors from faraway lands who could infiltrate a home, kill the occupants, and disappear into the night without leaving a trace.

The Baron spoke to the young man for a few seconds. Porthos, his own skills learned in his own Court, got close enough to hear a few words of the conversation. He could not make out what the young man was saying but he could hear the Baron.

'He tried to send me to Spain,' the Baron laughed. 'I refused; he's banished me. It's a setback but at least I won't have to worry about being around when you strike him down.'

The black-clad man said something before the Baron nodded.

'I agree, we should move on with the plans. I will go to my estate tonight and be ready to return at a moment's notice.'

Porthos realised that the plot to assassinate the King was now moving on. They were no closer to finding out what was going to happen, or where, or when. But it was set to occur soon.

Porthos hurried back to the garrison.

MMMM

_A few days later..._

The bells rang loudly in the bell tower scaring off any birds that had been tempted to settle on its roof. As the doors of the cathedral swung open on well-oiled hinges the crowd cheered. Shouts of encouragement to the King and Queen, with a few disparaging remarks, quickly quelled by the overwhelming groups of well-wishers.

The monarch and his wife smiled and waved graciously. The show of togetherness at odds with what the King really thought of the people of his country.

The waiting carriage was strategically placed at the end of the road, a short distance, but far enough for those that wanted to get a glimpse of the King and see him walking amongst his subjects.

Aramis always thought the exposure was too much. The chances of an attack were rife. He saw danger and evil at every turn, a butcher with a meat cleaver in hand, a blacksmith wielding a red-hot poker, straight from his furnace. He sighed as he pushed back some over-eager women, all keen to get a glimpse of the Queen who, as always, was radiant in her exquisitely made dress.

They were on alert, they were always on alert, but today they were even more watchful. They knew the assassination attempt was likely to happen when the King was at his most vulnerable. And that short walk from the steps of the Cathedral to the Royal carriage was the perfect chance for any would-be assassin.

If the King knew of the plot, he would not have attended mass, he would have hidden away. They were using the King, and the Queen, as unwitting bait. Aramis did not like the idea, but they had little choice.

Treville had subtly added a few more Musketeers to the escorting guard than usual and more were milling with the crowd to observe from a different angle. Athos and Porthos were ahead, Porthos was calling out to the people to make way while Athos was simply glaring at people until they moved back for their anointed leader to pass.

D'Artagnan, his keen eyes constantly searching the crowd was walking to Aramis' left. They were all on edge, alert, ready. But would it be enough?

A scream.

Chaos rained down.

The explosion was not as big as it could have been, no buildings were demolished, but the damage was done, and panic ensued. The people scattered; the Musketeers closed ranks around the Royal couple. All thoughts of etiquette pushed aside. Treville had his arm around the King's shoulders, forcing him to bend forward slightly, protecting him. Aramis moved up beside the Queen. He guided her towards the carriage, her frightened eyes wide, if he could have got away with sheltering her in one of the nearest buildings until the danger had passed, he would have done, but all he could do was see her safely to the carriage and help her up the step, and stepping back quickly for the King. Treville bundled the King into the carriage much to the man's dismay. The King was bemoaning what was happening, demanding the perpetrator be caught and wanted to know how Treville could have let the attack happen. The latch had barely caught before the horses were whipped and moved forward with a jerk causing both the occupants to fall back in their seats.

As the carriage moved a shouted warning from d'Artagnan had both Treville and Aramis whirl around. Four men were bearing down on them both, probably aiming at the carriage, but that was gone. Both Musketeers drew their swords and were quickly embroiled in a fierce fight. Aramis recognised the slightly different style of swordsmanship. The men were Spanish. They wore dark clothing, they would have blended in with the crowd, their black cloaks hiding their weapons.

The space the carriage had left gave Aramis and Treville room to manoeuvre. The law-abiding citizens were keeping out of the way, fleeing from the explosion and the fighting. Aramis still did not know what had exploded. There had been a moment when debris fell about them, but he had not paid much attention to it, his only purpose at that moment had been protecting the Queen. As he engaged the two men in front of him, he was aware of broken and splintered wood scattered across the ground. Much as he wanted to consider what had happened, he had to concentrate on the men in front of him first.

Bringing his parrying dagger across he deflected a blow from the shorter of the two men, before twisting at the hips slightly to better retaliate against the man. The second man, a lithe fast-footed man was trying to dance his way around Aramis. The Musketeer saw the ploy and countered by taking a few steps back, as the men followed him, he used his knowledge of the area to get the upper hand, quite literally. A couple of steps surrounded the door of a tradesman's tavern, one of the more expensive in the area, he knew the steps were well maintained and was confident as he placed his feet. The men were not expecting their opponents to gain a height advantage, Aramis pressed that advantage slicing downwards, catching the shorter man across the chest causing him to stumble backwards, clashing with another of the plainly dressed Spaniards. The two men ended in an inelegant heap on the cobbles, both remained quite still. Pierre, who had been dealing with the man nodded his thanks before moving on to help Athos who had also taken on two opponents.

MMMM

Porthos had noticed the small covered cart at the side of the road as they left the cathedral. The closer they got to the cart the more Porthos felt something was wrong. The route to the Royal carriage from the cathedral was usually kept clear, the cart should not have been there. Porthos was going to have words with the men who should have been watching the route to the carriage that morning.

Despite the feeling that time had slowed down, Porthos had no time to react when the cart exploded. The shattered wood spraying across the road caused people to run or duck down. Porthos and the bystanders who were closest were all knocked flat. He was aware that he needed to get up and deal with the situation, but he was too confused and uncoordinated for several seconds. His sense of hearing disappeared for a while. He managed to look around him as the debris settled. Two women were huddled over a third trying to get her to react. An old man was staring at his arm, blood dripping from a deep ragged gash. Other people were picking themselves up, the look of shock repeated by everyone he looked at. The shocked silence immediately after the explosion seemed to last forever to Porthos, but he knew it was only a couple of seconds. The screams that followed were deafening.

He managed to twist himself around to push up to his knees. The women were sobbing, Porthos guessed the woman they had been trying to rouse was dead. The old man was being hurried away by a couple and helped into a nearby tavern, which was now missing its windows. Other people were still trying to get away from the scene.

The whinnying of the carriage horses and the sound of hooves and wheels clattering over the cobbles told Porthos at least the Royal family had been safely removed from the area. He looked in the direction of the carriage in time to see Aramis and Treville fighting with a group of black-cloaked men, other Musketeers were rushing forward to help. Porthos wanted to help but could not get to his feet, his ears were ringing, he could hear but the sound was muffled.

'Stay there,' said Barbotin, who had appeared from the crowd.

The musketeer had been one of the men deployed to mingle with the crowd, he was out of uniform but still well-armed. Barbotin had decided, rightly, thought Porthos, that his skills as a field medic were more use at that moment. Other Musketeers had the fight with the attackers under control.

Porthos pointed at the woman lying prone a few feet from him. Barbotin shook his head.

'She's dead,' he said, with a frown, before continuing, 'so are LaPointe and Simon…'

Barbotin looked across the road to the spot where the cart had been. Porthos saw the bodies, covered in debris, blood seeping from penetrating wounds, staining the splintered wood.

The clashing of swords stopped, Porthos was aware of shouted orders from Treville before a fresh, more ordered, a flurry of activity began.

'They got away,' someone said.

'These are dead, no use to us now…' Treville said, the annoyance evident in his voice.

A few Musketeers were sent to search for the attackers that had fled, although Porthos did not think they would find anything. The black-clad attackers would have quickly changed and disappeared into the crowd.

'You alright?'

Porthos looked up to find d'Artagnan looking down at him, his hand out ready to help him up. Porthos took the offered help and finally got to his feet, d'Artagnan was quick to grab him when he stumbled slightly.

'Got knocked flat by the explosion,' Porthos said as he looked at the shattered remains of the cart.

Aramis and Barbotin were looking at the bodies of their comrades. Aramis was saying a muttered prayer over each man as Barbotin double checked they were both dead, despite it being unlikely they would have survived their injuries.

'Take him back to the garrison,' said Treville, 'don't argue Porthos. I want you fit and if that means you take a couple of hours to clean yourself up and rest than that's what you'll do.'

Treville made a vague gesture at Porthos doublet. He looked down and saw the dust and dirt across it, he held up his hands and realised they were grazed and shaking.

D'Artagnan smiled grimly, 'I think you got off lightly,' he said with a glance at the two dead Musketeers.

Porthos allowed d'Artagnan to guide him away from the site of the attack, the streets were busy. People rushing towards the explosion and people rushing away from it. A few women were being led away, crying into handkerchiefs. Porthos realised the explosion could have been much more serious. But three people had died and several more were injured. The attempt on the King's life had been very real.

They knew now that action had to be taken and soon.

MMMM

The garrison was quiet. All the Musketeers and cadets had found themselves unable to engage in their usual sparring or shooting practice. Those that had not been despatched as extra guards at the Palace were in a sombre mood.

The men who were closest to Lapointe and Simon were sat together at the table quietly drinking a toast to their friends.

D'Artagnan was sat with Porthos outside the infirmary. Porthos had spent a few minutes cleaning the cuts and grazes he had received in the explosion before sitting heavily on the bench next to d'Artagnan. They watched their friends across the yard. One of the men closest to Simon had given into the grief, the man next to him had simply flung his arm across his shoulders and pulled him into a brotherly embrace. They were soldiers, they could ignore death and all that went with it in the heat of battle, but they were still human. No one thought any less of the sobbing man. The Musketeers were a tight-knit group, they all looked out for each other. The losses were felt by them all.

Treville and Athos trotted into the yard, the stable boys, were quick to emerge from the stables to take the horses away.

Treville nodded to the two men sat by the infirmary, he indicated for them to follow him to his office. Athos paused to speak to the stable boy who pointed at the armoury. Athos walked purposefully across the yard. D'Artagnan had seen Aramis disappear into the weapons store an hour before. As they made their way towards the stairs Athos re-emerged with Aramis in tow.

They reached Treville's office together. The Captain was leaning on his desk, his arms folded across his chest, his stony expression unreadable. As the door was shut, he sighed, looking at them each for a few seconds, his gaze lingering on Porthos.

'I'm fine, Captain,' the Musketeer assured.

Treville nodded slowly.

'I don't think I am exaggerating by saying the King is furious,' began the Captain. 'I explained what we have been doing… and how I hoped we could prevent the assassination attempt and perhaps get some men captive to interrogate.'

Athos said, 'he wanted to know why he was not informed of the plot… he wanted to know why we were not closer to him… he wanted to know why we allowed him to be injured-'

'He was injured?' interjected Aramis.

Treville shook his head, 'he bumped his knee on the carriage door when I pushed him in. I think I'm lucky he didn't have me hanged.'

'Did you tell him that we lost two Musketeers?' asked Porthos.

'Yes,' replied Treville, 'he said they were probably not very good soldiers if they allowed themselves to be killed.'

Porthos muttered something in response under his breath. D'Artagnan watched Aramis shaking his head in disgust. They all knew the King could be compassionate, but it evaded him frequently.

Athos took over updating them about the meeting when Treville went quiet, staring at his boots shaking his head occasionally.

'The King has generously allowed us a chance to put things right. He has given the Captain one chance, and one chance only to deal with the situation. He wants the Baron arrested and interrogated. If we fail the mission will be given to the Red Guard…'

'I'm sorry,' said Treville, 'this should have been handled better. I should have had him arrested when I first heard about the plot. Now we have lost two good men…'

The Captain paused, lost in thought, he looked down. D'Artagnan watched as Porthos stepped forward. He lay his hand on the Captains shoulder. The Captain looked up. The two men looked at each other for a few seconds. Treville nodded and straightened up. He moved to sit behind his desk. None of them blamed the Captain for the deaths of Lapointe and Simon. The attack on the King would have happened anyway. The fact that only three people had died was probably thanks to the Captains increased security. If the Spaniards had not had the Musketeers to fight, they might have attacked the innocent Parisians.

'What is the plan?' asked Porthos.

'We four,' said Athos, 'will leave immediately for Gerard's chateau. We will take him by force, but as quietly as possible. The Captain will follow us ready to deal with any of the Spaniards who are, we suspect, also at the Chateau or in the vicinity.'

'Stealth followed by brute force,' suggested Porthos.

'To put it concisely, yes.'

MMMM


	7. Chapter 7

**Authors note: If you read my Whumptober 2019 stories you will recognise the end of this chapter and some of the next one from the prompt 'Shackled'. It is the last of the prompt I have used as the basis of this story.**

Baron Gerard lived in an impressive chateau a few hours ride from the city. Unlike his somewhat plain city residence, the chateau was grand, marred only by the encroaching rocky landscape. The sprawling lawns leading up to the red brick and marble fronted building were neatly cut with tidy borders of small box hedges. The three floors of the chateau were symmetrical, a large double door with an ornate carved stone surround provided the centrepiece of the building. A focus drawing the eye in. Although the four watching Musketeers were not drawn to the detailed stonework. They were watching the group of people standing on the main paved area in front of the large doorway. A group of black-clad men were sparring, much to the delight of an older man who was watching them from the steps in front of the door. Gerard was stood next to the man; he did not look as impressed.

The Musketeers had spent a little time setting up camp a mile from the chateau before cautiously approaching the property. The rocky surrounding provided several good vantage points over the Chateau. They had a good view of the main approach and one side of the property.

'We need to get closer,' said Athos. 'We need to thin them out.'

Porthos nodded, 'they are using this place as their headquarters, probably had to regroup after the first failed attempt on the king.'

Athos looked across to Aramis who was staring intently, his keen eyes taking in every detail. Aramis glanced at Athos.

'I think at least two of them were with the attackers this morning. There were some that ran straight away. The one watching from the left, with the eye patch. They must have fled Paris and come here, perhaps that was the plan and the ones we killed were just too slow and were forced to fight.'

D'Artagnan was also looking at the group of men. Athos detected frustration in his friend. It was the young Musketeers turn to notice he was being scrutinised.

'I don't know,' he said with a shake of his head. 'There's something about that one standing a bit apart... I can't work out what it is though.'

They had all noticed the lithe man stood a few yards from Gerard and the other watching men. They were too far away to see the man in detail a large brimmed hat made it impossible to see the man's face. They only recognised Gerard due to spending a lot of time following him in the previous weeks.

'Do you think you recognise some of them?' asked Porthos.

'Maybe,' d'Artagnan paused for a few seconds. 'The older one, that looks like he's in charge-'

'Someone who was there when you were injured?' suggested Aramis. 'Don't try to force the memory.'

D'Artagnan shook his head with a sigh.

'We need to infiltrate,' said Aramis after a few more minutes of observation.

Porthos said, 'but Gerard will recognise us, he'll have seen us at the Palace...I've spoken to him a couple of times.'

'He's never spoken to me,' remarked Aramis.

Athos glanced at d'Artagnan who nodded his head, 'I've spoken to him as well. He'd heard I'm from Gascony he wanted to know what the farming was like there.'

'And he will know me,' said Athos.

'What did he talk to you about?' asked Aramis, looking at Porthos.

Porthos thought for a moment, 'he asked me about wages and what our living conditions were like. I was honest with him; I got the impression he thought we deserved better… he er… he actually offered me a job.'

'And you're only telling us this now?' said Aramis with a huff of laughter.

'I'd forgotten,' retorted Porthos. 'We were the last to know what this was all about, and then you two were injured and then we just spent forever following him around...sorry.'

Athos could see his friend looked guilty for the oversight, but at the same time could understand how he had missed what could have been an important piece of information.

'What sort of job did he offer you?' asked Aramis.

'He wanted a bodyguard. He was willing to pay well,' Porthos paused looking at the men in the grounds of the chateau, 'they're probably getting paid well…'

Athos tilted his head slightly and looked at Aramis, 'you have a plan?' he asked.

'Obviously, Porthos is the one that is going to get us in,' Aramis replied.

'Us?' said Porthos.

'You and me. You're not going in there alone. You will be the disenchanted Musketeer and I will be another soldier from… the infantry… we don't want to both be Musketeers; Gerard will find that suspicious. Gerard's never spoken to me-'

'He's probably seen you around at the Palace,' said d'Artagnan.

Aramis shook his head before undoing his pauldron and sliding it off his arm and slipping his bandolier over his head.

'Out of uniform... different hat…'

Athos sighed and rolled his eyes as Aramis took his hat and swapped it with his own.

'No fancy guns…' continued the Musketeer.

Aramis pulled his guns from his belt running his fingers over the details on the handles for a few seconds before handing them to d'Artagnan. Athos had to admit that even with the few simple changes Aramis had made he already looked quite different.

'Swap you doublet with d'Artagnan,' he suggested, 'then I think you will be unrecognisable, but probably only for a casual inspection.'

'Gerard's not really the one we need to fool,' said Aramis. 'That other man down there. The older one who is enjoying watching the other men spar. He's the one in charge. He's who we need to fool.'

Athos nodded, he approved of the plan.

'We will scout the area, whilst you are busy with Gerard,' said Athos with a nod toward d'Artagnan who was busy shrugging out of his doublet. 'We will thin the men out a bit. There are bound to be patrols that can be neutralised.'

MMMM

Aramis and Porthos set off on their infiltration mission a few minutes later. After deciding that they would rendezvous back at their camp the following morning, the two Musketeers said their goodbyes and walked towards the chateau, careful to take a circuitous route so that they could approach from a plausible direction and not inadvertently give away the position of their camp.

D'Artagnan, now wearing Aramis' doublet, watched them go as he double-checked his weapons were where he wanted them to be. Athos was doing the same thing a few feet away.

'If you are destined to remember the things you have forgotten,' said Athos, 'you will remember them. Stop blaming yourself for the loss of something that you do not even know would be useful.'

D'Artagnan knew his friend was right, but he could not help to continue to feel guilty. He was sure there was something about the men they had observed outside the chateau. He was sure he recognised them, but he could not work out why it was important for him to remember. He sighed with a shake of his head; Athos was correct he would only wind himself up if he continued to try to remember.

He followed Athos from their camp, back towards the spot they had been observing the sparring men. They intended to watch Porthos and Aramis until they had been accepted by the group then start a slow sweep looking for patrols that they could take out. Anything they could do from the outside would help Porthos and Aramis in their attempt to secure Gerard to return him to Paris for interrogation.

Athos made himself comfortable on a low branch, d'Artagnan stretched out on the ground peering over the edge of some protruding rocks. The sparring group were still at the front of the chateau, but Gerard had disappeared. D'Artagnan wondered if that would be a good thing or not, it meant that Porthos would not be able to use his previous conversations with the man as a starting point for their infiltration attempt. His friends were good at adapting to situations as they unfolded, d'Artagnan knew they would be fine regardless.

'The man you thought you recognised from somewhere,' said Athos, 'is a woman.'

D'Artagnan looked across the lawn to see Gerard, who had not returned to the house but merely wandered across the lawn a little. He was talking to the woman, that they had all thought was simply a lithe young man. The woman had blonde hair, swept up on top of her head, the hat she had been wearing was lying on a table a few feet from where the two were deep in conversation. Gerard seemed to be remonstrating with the woman who did not appear cowed by the older man in the slightest. She listened to the man quietly until he had said his piece. Once he had stopped speaking, she remained silent for a few seconds before stepping closer to him, she was forced to look up slightly at the taller man. Her response to whatever had been said was clearly one that Gerard was not expecting to hear. He took a step back; he was very much the one that was losing the disagreement. He appeared to apologise before both of them looked in the direction of the gate.

Porthos and Aramis had just walked through the gate, walking purposefully along the driveway towards the people assembled outside the chateau. Gerard saw them, the recognition instant. He spoke to the woman who was looking at the two men. Gerard was about to walk toward Porthos, he looked pleased. The woman caught his arm, turning him back towards her, she spoke to him, leaning into him so that no one else would be able to hear her speak. She was looking towards the Musketeers, who did not appear to have noticed Gerard and the woman.

'What is she saying, do you think?' asked d'Artagnan. 'Has she recognised them?'

'I do not recognise her,' said Athos, 'if she had something to do with the court, we would probably know her.'

D'Artagnan could not help a gasp as a memory returned to him. Athos looked at him with concern.

'She was there…the building that was blown up…she was with the Spaniards…'

D'Artagnan looked back across to the front of the house.

'And him,' he pointed at the man they had decided was in charge, 'he was there. His name…Gallo. He is in charge, of this part of the coup…there's another paymaster…I don't know who that is, they weren't named…'

Athos nodded, 'well done. Although that does not explain why that woman seems to know Aramis and Porthos- '

Athos stopped talking and looked away for a few seconds. It was d'Artagnan's turn to look at Athos with concern.

'When Aramis got back from his observations of Gerard's house, he mentioned talking to a pretty blonde woman…she was a distraction for him nothing more. And Porthos mentioned that he had seen a woman, a young woman when he was trying to apprehend the two men that attacked me.'

'You don't think this is the same woman?' said d'Artagnan.

Athos looked back at the woman and shook his head, 'a coincidence, perhaps… although,' continued Athos, 'the man that was poisoned at the Chatelet, the description of the visitor… I think it was her as well.'

They returned their attention to the group outside the chateau who were now all looking towards the approaching Musketeers. The man they now knew was Gallo stepped forward he was about to speak to the strangers but stopped when Gerard walked up to Porthos and warmly shook his hand. Porthos introduced Aramis to the Baron who did not appear to recognise him. The woman had slipped around to speak to Gallo, she had put her hat back on, pulling it low over her face. D'Artagnan doubted either of his friends would be able to see her face. They might have realised that she was a woman now that they were closer, but they would not know that they had both met her in the previous weeks.

Gallo stepped forward and after briefly speaking to both the newcomers he indicated for them to enter the house.

'They're walking into a very dangerous situation,' said d'Artagnan. 'And we can't do anything to let them know.'

MMMM

'You two will make useful additions to our group,' said Gallo as they walked up the steps into the house.

Porthos glanced at Aramis, neither of them could believe how easy it had been to be accepted. Porthos had spoken to Gerard for a few minutes, explaining that they were both disillusioned with their work as soldiers and wanted to leave for work that they knew would be better paid. Porthos had apologised to Gerard for bringing Aramis with him, saying he was from a different regiment. Gerard had said Aramis was also welcomed to join his staff.

As they entered the impressive chateau Gallo had spoken quietly to Gerard who nodded. The Baron turned to them both saying he would speak to them later in the day once they had been shown around and found somewhere to sleep. Gerard had disappeared into a room off the hallway they were walking through.

Porthos noticed Gallo signal to some of his men who nodded subtly in return. He was instantly suspicious, he glanced towards Aramis who was walking on the other side of Gallo. He could not tell if his friend was aware of the signals that had been given.

'We have several rooms at the back of the house. The Baron needs to keep at least a façade of normality, we cannot advertise that he has a small army here. You have chosen to take the Baron up on his offer at an interesting moment. We have plans and two disgruntled soldiers will be able to supply us with quite a lot of useful information, I am sure.'

They were led towards the back of the house. Porthos wanted to let Aramis know that something was not right, but he was not given the chance. He was aware of the two men walking behind him. The man with one eye, that Porthos was sure was the man that had attacked Athos, the one that got away from him when he was trying to arrest him. The man had not indicated that he had recognised Porthos, but the Musketeer was sure the man knew him. The other man that was walking a little too close behind them was a big man, taller than him and broader, his big beefy hands hanging at his sides would be capable of inflicting a lot of damage if they were put to use.

'Put them in the room at the end, I will talk with them shortly,' said Gallo as he stepped aside and pointed towards a set of stone steps that led downwards.

Aramis looked at Gallo, 'do you usually have your men sleep in the cellar?'

'You are not our men,' said Gallo, 'you are our prisoners.'

Aramis glanced at Porthos who nodded once. The silent communication enough. They both turned and pushed the two men back hard. Porthos was fortunate to take the big brute of a man by surprise and cause him to stumble back a step. The one-eyed man tried to grab at Aramis as he was pushed aside. Aramis easily brushed the man off. Porthos was aware of his friend breaking into a run a few steps behind him. They charged towards the door; any thoughts of infiltration were gone. They had been found out, Porthos wondered why but knew he did not have the time to contemplate the question at that moment.

He reached the door, which was standing ajar, without ceremony or pause, Porthos pushed the door open and ran down the steps. If they could get across the lawn, they could try to lose their pursuers in the rocky wooded areas that surrounded the chateau. He hit the driveway but had only gone a couple of strides across it when he heard Aramis cry out behind him. The sound of a body hitting the gravelled driveway made Porthos turn back.

Aramis was lying at the foot of the steps trying to push himself up to stand, a tangle of ropes around his ankles and a satisfied smug look on the one-eyed man's face told Porthos all he needed to know. The man had thrown a weighted rope around Aramis' shins causing him to trip and fall the last couple of steps. Disentangling himself was taking too long, Aramis was caught again.

'Run. Porthos,' yelled Aramis before he was grabbed by the big brute and pushed into the gravel.

Porthos turned back, he could not leave his friend to an uncertain fate. He rushed back, trying to push the brute away. He wanted to hook his hand under Aramis arm and drag him up so that they could continue to escape. But it was not meant to be. The action of pulling Aramis to his feet caused his friend to cry out in pain, almost collapsing back to the ground, stopping himself by clutching at Porthos' doublet. Porthos could not work out what was wrong with Aramis.

'Ankle,' said his friend, the pain obvious from his expression. 'You can still get away… Go.'

Porthos did not go. He could not. His chance at escape was over.

Gallo was standing at the top of the steps, his gun aimed in their direction. The two thugs were up. Their attempt to take Gerard quickly and quietly had failed quite spectacularly.

'Pretending to be defecting to the other side,' said Gallo with a sneer, 'a clever ploy my friends. And you might have been believed. Gerard had already told us he had propositioned a Musketeer. When you two appeared, it looked too good to be true.'

Gallo was standing in front of them both after they had been roughly pushed back into the house. Porthos wanted to help Aramis who could barely walk on his injured ankle, his friend had glared at him a couple of times as they were marched into the hall again. Porthos knew Aramis had wanted him to run when he had the chance, but how could he have left his friend to an uncertain fate?

The woman was hovering a few feet behind Gallo she was smiling but the smile had a cruel quality to it. Porthos remembered her as the woman he had told to keep back when he had been trying to arrest the men that had attacked Athos. Aramis had looked at the woman in a manner that told Porthos that he too recognised her. He wondered when he had encountered her.

The answer came quickly. She walked up to Aramis who was being held firmly by the big brutish man. She stood in front of him for a few seconds before slapping him hard across the face.

'You were more than happy to flirt with me when you were watching the Baron's house. I would have said that was dereliction of duty, Musketeer.'

She was not Spanish, thought Porthos, there was no hint of an accent in her words. If she was Spanish, she had learned French very well or lived in the country for many years. Porthos wondered what her connection with the planned coup was.

Aramis did not respond to the woman's jibes. His cheek had reddened where she had hit him. Although Porthos suspected the pain was nothing compared to his ankle.

'You won't get away with this,' said Porthos, who could not contain his irritation at all that was happening any longer.

He was aware of Aramis glaring at him again. It was obvious Aramis was still annoyed with him and he had probably just made it worse with his outburst.

'I think we will, even more so now that we have two Musketeers to question. I think the information you two can give us will go a long way to making our assassination of the King a complete success.'

The woman stepped forward again.

'Yes, Elizabeth?'

'Are you going to play them off against each other. That one didn't want to leave his friend behind. They probably won't want to watch each other being hurt.'

Gallo smiled and glanced back at the young woman.

'Perhaps you would like to help?'

Elizabeth nodded with another smile.

'But first, we should let them rest for a bit, they look like they could do with a break,' said Gallo with a glint in his eye.

MMMM

'You can't leave him like that,' said Aramis.

Gallo looked at him, his beady eyes glinting in the torchlight.

'I can, Senor, and I will. He annoyed me with his pathetic attempt to escape. A shame he felt obliged to wait for you...you should blame yourself. He could have got out, if you had not been too slow, he would not now be locked in a cellar with you...hanging, upside down...by his ankles.'

Gallo laughed as he pulled the heavy wooden door closed.

'It's not your fault, Aramis,' said Porthos from behind him.

'No,' replied Aramis. 'It's yours. You should have run; you could have got away. But no. You stopped to help me and then you had a go at Gallo and his men, rather than taking the opportunity to go-'

'They'd have killed you.'

'And now, we'll probably both be killed. If they don't come back and let you down...do you know how horrible it will be to die in that position?' Aramis paused for a few seconds before saying quietly, '...and I have to watch.'

Porthos did not respond, Aramis wondered why he was being as confrontational as he was. His guilt was making him argumentative with the man that had saved his life and sacrificed his own in the process.

If he had not been caught by the weighted rope and fallen on the steps, not crashed to the ground, not twisted his ankle and been left unable to move at speed, they could have got away. A simple fall had left them with no way out.

Porthos, who was able to push himself up slightly by his hands, was watching him.

'I ain't dead yet,' said Porthos. 'And you know it will take a while. I'll admit I can't do anything to aide our escape, but you can…'

Aramis stared at him; he could not even begin to guess what Porthos was getting at. His friend was delusional. They were locked in a cellar with a heavy wooden door and no windows. Porthos was restrained with manacles on his ankles and currently dangling in the middle of the room. The other end of the chain was outside of the room, there was no way Aramis could get his friend down.

Porthos sighed, 'Pick. The. Lock. On. The. Door.'

It took Aramis far longer than it should have for him to realise his friend was correct. He was surprised he had not thought of it himself, the narrow blade in his boot was digging into his swollen ankle. They had not been searched thoroughly.

'Sorry,' Aramis said as he pulled the narrow blade free.

'I'm sorry I didn't just let them kill you,' replied Porthos.

'Apology accepted,' said Aramis, feeling some of his usual bravado return.

Porthos was correct, the odds were against them, but they could not just give up. He looked at the blade for a few seconds before hobbling towards the door and kneeling by the lock, he peered through, remembering all that Porthos had taught him about lock picking.

'Is it bad?' asked Porthos from behind him.

Aramis thought his friend's breathing already sounded a little laboured. He decided not to comment, knowing he might have to intervene to prolong their chances of both getting out alive, something he knew Porthos would not like.

'It's not broken, but I'll be limping for a bit,' he replied.

Porthos muttered something in response but left Aramis in peace to concentrate on picking the lock. Aramis had quickly decided that he would be able to pick the lock it would just take patience and a steady hand. As he worked, he listened intently to Porthos' breathing. Aramis knew that his friend would start to suffer due to the position their captor had left him in.

Knowing that to try to keep up a conversation would cost Porthos valuable breaths Aramis tried to concentrate on the lock with an occasional glance at his friend. When he noticed Porthos had closed his eyes and was not supporting his weight on his hands any longer Aramis knew he had to act. He slipped the dagger into his belt and limped back to his friend.

'Porthos?'

Porthos opened his eyes, 'mm still here,' he mumbled.

Aramis moved behind his friend and crouched down, grabbing Porthos by the arms and pushing him up awkwardly so that he was not hanging completely upside down. The position was not comfortable, particularly as he could not spread his own weight evenly between both legs due to his injured ankle. It took Porthos a few seconds to work out what had happened.

'What good is that going to do?' he asked. 'If you're here, holding me vaguely upright, you're not picking the lock.'

'And if you're left to dangle, you'll die…'

'You should leave me-'

'Like you left me?'

Porthos did not respond.

'We don't know how long they'll be before they come back...if they come back...and I don't know how long it will take me to pick that lock.'

Porthos looked towards the door, 'and you don't know if you'll even be able to get me down after you get out…'

Aramis reluctantly agreed.

'I'm feeling better now,' said Porthos after another few seconds.

Aramis carefully lowered his friend back into the uncomfortable inverted position and after ensuring he was steady returned to the door.

MMMM


	8. Chapter 8

Knowing that their friends had walked into a trap played heavily on d'Artagnan as they moved away from their spot watching the front of the house. They quickly decided that they could not attack the house with just the two of them. They would stick to their original plan and take out some of the patrolling guards and any that were in the grounds. They did not know how many men were in the employ of the Spanish leader but any they could neutralise would mean fewer men hindering any escape attempt that Porthos and Aramis made. They were confident their friends would work out they had walked into danger and try to escape. If they were not given the chance Athos and he would do what they could to liberate them.

The rocky ground around the chateau helped and hindered them. It made the going difficult, they were forced to watch their feet constantly. They did not want to cause too much noise as they moved around the area and they did not want to fall and injure themselves.

A hand on d'Artagnan's shoulder made him pause and look up, Athos pointed ahead of them. Two men were standing with their backs to them deep in conversation. Athos pointed to himself then indicated that he would make his way around the men. He then pointed at d'Artagnan and pointed at the men. D'Artagnan nodded. He watched as Athos moved off, slowly picking his way around the rocks, occasionally changing where he was putting his feet when he found a loose rock.

When Athos had moved around to the front of the men d'Artagnan made his own move. He silently crept up on the men, when he was within a couple of feet of them Athos made his move. The sudden appearance of a man in front of them emerging from behind the rocks had the desired effect. Both men started to pull their weapons. One went for his gun, the other his sword. D'Artagnan made the lightning decision to attack the man that had gone for his gun.

His dagger in his hand d'Artagnan surged forward, he wrapped his arm around the man's chest before the gun could be fully pulled from the man's belt. The dagger was dragged across the unfortunate enemy's neck. An unpleasant task but d'Artagnan needed to keep the man quiet. He could not be allowed to fire his gun nor shout out a warning. As the weakly struggling man passed into unconsciousness and death d'Artagnan eased him to the ground. He looked across to Athos.

His friend had made short work of running the other man through with his sword. The man had stumbled a few steps clutching at his stomach before collapsing to the ground, his fingers opening and closing, clutching at the dusty earth, as he made a futile attempt to pull himself back to the chateau. As the dying man finally stopped moving Athos looked up.

'Let us hope they are all that easily dealt with,' he said.

D'Artagnan nodded grimly, killing men was never something they enjoyed doing, but at times it was a necessity.

After dragging the bodies into some undergrowth, the two Musketeers moved on, skirting around a group of larger rocks, which forced them a little further from the chateau. They moved in silence, there was no need for conversation. They both knew what they had to do.

Noises caused both men to crouch behind a tangle of bramble bushes that had wheedled their way around the rocks, the hardy plant giving the Musketeers the cover they needed. The man that had caused the noise moved off. They could hear some muttered words but not make out what was being said. D'Artagnan got the impression the man was annoyed about something. As the sounds of displaced rocks and the odd cracking twig subsided Athos cautiously stood up after signalling for d'Artagnan to remain where he was. It would not do for them both to be seen. Athos nodded to d'Artagnan that they were alone.

They moved off in the direction the muttering man had gone. Following him at a distance until they found a better area to deal with him. They could hear the man moving ahead of them although d'Artagnan got the impression the man was not alone. They were following him into an area with more vegetation than rocks. They moved a little quicker, able to get closer without risking being seen.

A rapid movement to their left had d'Artagnan twist around, his hand pulling his sword at the same time. Two deer shot out of the cover of some thick bushes, darting about, skittering on the rocks before turning in the direction the man they were following had gone. A shout ahead of them, d'Artagnan guessed from the muttering man, followed by swearing and a lot of movement in the undergrowth. The bushes were moving but they could not see any men. The deer rushed off.

A dog barked.

More swearing.

D'Artagnan realised the man was not alone, but he was not with other men. He had a big dog with him. The snarling, angry-looking beast stopped when he was ordered to by the man. The dog had been about to charge after the deer but skidded to a stop. As the taller bushes were being pushed apart by the handler the dog swung its head around. Its gaze stopped on the Musketeers.

They were both exposed at that moment a few yards from any kind of cover. D'Artagnan started to move off. If the dog was as well trained as it appeared to be there was a chance it would just stay where it was not moving until its handler ordered it to. They had a few seconds before the handler would reach them, they could hide. The handler would not see anyone following him and simply collect the escaped dog and move off again. D'Artagnan glanced at Athos to see which way he was moving.

Athos had not moved. Athos was staring at the dog.

Athos looked terrified.

MMMM

Porthos watched his friend working, he had every faith that Aramis would be able to pick the lock. The door might have been a heavy one, but the lock was relatively simple. With his steady hand and calm approach, Aramis would have the door open in no time, provided he did not keep stopping to help him. He tried not to let his difficulty breathing be too obvious, but knew he was failing when Aramis looked back at him several times.

The position Gallo had cruelly left him was both humiliating and clever. It left him unable to do anything to help in any escape attempt and meant that Aramis was distracted worrying about him.

He blinked a few times, feeling the room spin, he knew the room was not spinning, his hands were resting on the stone floor keeping him still. It was him that felt dizzy. The manacles on his ankles were digging into him, he would probably end up hobbling as much as Aramis was if he managed to get free of them. His head felt heavy, he knew he was starting to pass out again, but did not want to worry Aramis who was close to getting the door open. Porthos made an effort to push himself up slightly but failed causing the chains to clink slightly, the noise amplified by the stone walls.

Aramis looked around, Porthos had failed to keep quiet enough not to distract his friend. He wanted to tell him to keep at the door lock, but all he managed was a slurred, mumbled sentence that meant nothing.

The hobbling Musketeer walked back to him and pulled him up again, Porthos could tell Aramis was struggling. Hauling a fully-grown man into a semi-upright position whilst they were restrained by the ankles was not something that could be practised. Porthos could do nothing to help his friend and as his ability to speak seemed to have left him, all he could do was hope that the dizziness would leave him and his ability to communicate succinctly would return so that he could tell Aramis to leave him and concentrate on the lock.

Porthos had no idea how long Aramis managed to hold him up but he did not feel much better when his friend finally seemed to admit defeat and lowered him back down. Porthos mumbled his thanks but did not trust himself to manage a full sentence.

Aramis went back to the lock.

MMMM

Athos stared at the dog as it stared back at him. The big black dog looked strong. It snarled revealing its teeth.

Athos had been scared before, he had been scared before battles, he had been scared, in a different way, before his wedding. But the fear, the sheer horror he felt at that moment surpassed everything he had felt before. He could not imagine being more terrified.

There was nothing else apart from the dog and the memory of Gerard's dog grabbing his wrist and biting down whilst the second dog had stalked up to him ready to finish the job.

Athos could not move, he wanted to move, he wanted to get away from the snarling beast, but he could not make his feet work for him.

He just stood there staring at the dog as it stared back.

It was d'Artagnan that dealt with the dog and the handler. He was vaguely aware of his friend rushing forward with a cry of his own and slicing at the dog before taking on the handler that had appeared from the undergrowth. He was vaguely aware of a very brief clash of swords, not enough to draw attention to them. He was vaguely aware of d'Artagnan walking back to stand in front of him and saying something before hooking his hand around his arm and leading him away from the bodies of the man and the dog.

'Athos,' said d'Artagnan. 'Look at me.'

Athos finally managed to look up.

'Are you alright?'

Was he alright? He had been frozen in fear, as the last few minutes played over in his mind he looked away.

'Athos, it's alright.'

'It is not,' replied Athos. 'I should not have reacted like that.'

D'Artagnan had an indecisive look on his face. Athos could tell his friend did not know how to deal with him.

'I will be fine, I am sorry,' said Athos. 'I just… could not move. I do not think I have ever experienced that.'

'Fear?'

Athos looked back at d'Artagnan, 'I have been scared before. But I have never been rooted to the spot unable to channel that feeling into energy and use it to defend myself or attack the enemy… I just could not move.'

D'Artagnan pushed Athos to sit on the exposed tree root of one of the few big trees in the area. Athos allowed his young friend to do so.

'Athos,' said d'Artagnan talking to him as though he were a child. 'You were attacked by two dogs not that long ago. You could have been killed by them. It's not really surprising that being faced with another big dog that you reacted like that.'

Athos looked at d'Artagnan, trying to work out if he was being told off or comforted. He guessed he did not really deserve either. His reaction was unexpected to him but perhaps not unexpected to other people.

D'Artagnan moved to sit next to him, he did not say anything else, merely sat next to him, their shoulders touching. Athos realised he was glad of the proximity of his friend. He was usually more than happy to be alone with his thoughts, but at that moment he did not. He was worried he would become frozen a second time if the images of the dog biting his wrist surfaced again. He had not even realised he was rubbing at the wrist until d'Artagnan lay his own hand over Athos'.

'None of us know when something like this is going to happen. I know what you're thinking,' said d'Artagnan. 'You're worried this will happen again.'

'I should not be rendered useless by fear… I cannot let this cause issues in the future,' replied Athos.

D'Artagnan shook his head, 'it won't,' he said.

Athos wondered how the younger man could sound so sure.

'You've faced it now.'

'I froze, d'Artagnan. I stood there and did nothing. You dealt with the dog and the handler.'

'You dealt with the dog.'

Athos stared at him.

'You don't remember what you just did?'

Athos shook his head.

'You cried out and rushed forward as the dog ran at you. You cut it down. I had to get out of your way. I was about to run the dog through, but you were there.'

Athos looked away, the image of the dog falling to his sword became clear. He had been so worked up with the memories of the dogs that had attacked him that he could not remember dealing with the one right in front of him.

D'Artagnan stood up, offering his hand to Athos, pulling him up as well.

'I won't mention it to the others,' said d'Artagnan.

Athos nodded his thanks, 'then we need to liberate them so that you cannot mention it to them.'

D'Artagnan smiled, 'let's get on with that then.'

MMMM

Aramis lost count of the number of times he paused his work on the lock and returned to pull Porthos into at least a level position for a few minutes. His friend was clearly suffering from the inversion and the pain of being left hanging by his ankles. Aramis wished he could get the lock to open. He knew he was not far off.

After gently lowering Porthos back to the ground he limped back to the door, picking up the dagger again and going back to work. He paused listening intently.

'Wha…?' slurred Porthos.

'They're coming back,' Aramis said as he stepped back from the door, carefully sliding the dagger back into his boot ensuring it was far enough down so as not to be seen.

A key turned in the lock, Aramis sighed, he had been close to unlocking it, he would probably have to start again.

The door was pushed open. Gallo appeared with a couple of his thuggish men, the one who had lost an eye, and the one that had decided to kick Aramis when he had fallen before they were captured. The kicking man was of a big build and had managed to leave Aramis with a bruised side that he was not telling Porthos about.

The one-eyed man raised his gun, levelling it at Porthos. Aramis shook his head and slowly backed away. Gallo chuckled.

'I just wondered how you were getting on with the lock?'

Aramis and Porthos, who had managed to rouse himself enough to pay attention, tried not to react. Gallo held out his hand to Aramis as the one-eyed man moved closer to Porthos.

'Hand it over and I will let your friend down,' said Gallo as he stopped in front of Aramis.

'Just give it to him...he deserves it,' said Porthos, who had managed to push himself up slightly again.

Aramis glanced at Porthos, watched his hand sliding slowly towards the one-eyed man who had stopped a little too close to him. Aramis understood Porthos' intent and agreed with the idea. They had nothing to lose.

He slowly bent towards his boot, slipping his fingers in and easing the blade out. He made a point of wincing in pain as he did so. Gallo took the bait.

'Poor Musketeer with a poorly ankle. Not going to run away, again are you?'

With lightning speed Aramis struck, the momentary distraction caused by his gloating meant Gallo was not ready for the dagger to be used on him. Aramis considered what he and Porthos were trying to do to be obvious. But Gallo had underestimated them, he was not quick enough to step back and got to feel the full length of the narrow blade plunging into his stomach. It was not enough to stop the man from fighting back, Aramis knew it would take a while to have the desired effect, but it had caused confusion and shock around the room.

Porthos had somehow grabbed the one-eyed man and tripped him to the floor, his gun had slid away from both men. Aramis could not keep an eye on his friend, he had two attackers to deal with. The third man, the man that had kicked him, was trying to pull him away from Gallo.

Taking his weight on his injured ankle he kicked the man in the groin as hard as he could. The third man collapsed with a cry of pain. Aramis suspected he might be back before the fight was over with Gallo, but at least he was out of the way for the time being. Gallo was fighting dirty, trying to grab his own weapons whilst pushing and punching Aramis away. The man pushed Aramis back several paces forcing him into the stone wall. Aramis braced himself, using the wall for support. Gallo managed to pull his gun from his belt, but Aramis saw the move and twisted to the side, pinning the other man's right arm, preventing him from accessing the weapon. He hooked his bad ankle around Gallo toppling them both to the floor. Aramis landed on top of Gallo. He took the chance to punch the man several times, leaving him bloodied and stunned.

As he sat back up, he looked across to Porthos who was busy throttling the one-eyed man. Aramis was impressed but the surge of energy his friend was enjoying would not last, they needed to get out quickly.

His thoughts were interrupted by the big man he had kicked rushing at him. The man grabbed Aramis by the arm and dragged him up. Aramis could not get to his feet quick enough; he was shoved into the wall hard, smacking his head on the rough stone. He had no time to recover from the assault before the man was on him again. The big man was angry with Aramis and wanted the Musketeer to know it. He twisted Aramis around and shoved him backwards into the wall before punching him. The punch left Aramis dizzy, he realised the man had lifted him slightly off the ground, keeping him pinned to the wall with one meaty arm. The big man was taller than Aramis who was rapidly realising he would not win in a fistfight against him, not when he was already at a disadvantage. He grabbed at the man's wrist and tried kicking out, but the man tilted his head slightly and smirked. Aramis was not going to get away with kicking him again.

The force of the hand on his chest, just below his neck was leaving Aramis struggling to take a breath. The man pulled back his right hand ready to punch him again, Aramis fully expected to be knocked out by the action. He tried to look for Porthos, but the big man was blocking any view he had of his friend.

As the fisted hand began to move rapidly towards him, Aramis shut his eyes.

MMMM

Porthos was pleased that Aramis had understood his intention. He was confident his friend would be able to deal with the other two men, particularly after he felled the big man with a swift kick.

His own fight was a little harder. He was struggling to breathe and knew he would lose his energy quickly. The one-eyed man was taken by surprise by Porthos, he did not fight back for several seconds. Seconds that Porthos used wisely to grab at the man and move him, pulling him down to the ground. The position was awkward but once Porthos had wrapped his arm around the man's neck he steadfastly remained there. The man thrashed around, tried to claw at Porthos' face but the Musketeer was determined that he would do what he could to get them free. Ultimately their freedom relied on Aramis but Porthos was not beyond contributing.

As he slowly killed the man, a task he did not enjoy, he watched Aramis fighting off Gallo. The man would succumb to the stab wound but it would take him a while. Time which was spent fighting Aramis. The Musketeer was hindered by his injured ankle and no doubt other injuries from his earlier fall, but he managed to knock Gallo out.

Aramis paused for a second, glancing across to him, but his respite was short-lived. The brutish man that had taken pleasure in grabbing Aramis after his fall during their foiled escape attempt, was on him again. The man was probably a little annoyed at being kicked in the groin and clearly wanted to make Aramis pay for the assault. Porthos knew his friend would not win against the brute, not when he was already injured. The man managed to pin Aramis to the wall and punch him, leaving Aramis stunned, blinking and struggling to regain his focus. Porthos knew a second punch would at the very least knock Aramis out if it did not kill him.

He looked around, the gun that the one-eyed man had been brandishing lay a few inches away. He decided he had throttled the one-eyed man long enough, he let go of what he hoped was now a body and not a man who would come around with a headache and a vendetta. The one-eyed man slumped to the floor and did not move.

Porthos reached for the gun, it lay tantalisingly close, he clawed at the stone floor, finding a modicum of purchase, enough to swing him towards the gun. He grabbed it and twisted around. He knew the shot would be difficult and that he would only get one chance. Porthos' main concern was that he did not hit his friend.

He fired.

The shot hit the brute in the back at an angle, penetrating towards his shoulder. It was good enough. The man stumbled forward into Aramis who managed to remain on his feet as the man slumped to the side and collapsed in a heap taking a few gasped breaths before going still.

Aramis was breathing hard, staring at the man for a few seconds.

'Getting me down is the next thing,' said Porthos, who realised his knocked about friend needed to get his focus back.

Aramis looked at him and nodded.

'Yes,' he said, 'thanks.'

The Musketeer pushed himself off the wall and limped to the door of the cell, he peered out for a few seconds before disappearing from sight. Porthos watched as the chain that was holding him upside down moved a little, but not enough.

'I can't loosen it,' called Aramis from outside the cell. 'It's too stiff...that big thug was probably the one who tightened it up.'

Aramis reappeared, he looked around the room for a few seconds before hobbling to the body of Gallo. A pool of blood was forming under him where the wound to his stomach was. Ignoring the blood, Aramis knelt and rifled through the man's pockets, pulling out the key to the manacles.

Porthos watched with worry as Aramis stood back up, wavering and stumbling to the side as he did so.

'Aramis?'

It took his friend far too long to turn around to face him. Aramis was blinking, he reached up and felt the back of his head.

'Just give me the key,' said Porthos, worried his friend might pass out just out of his reach.

Aramis limped across to him. He reached up to the manacles and pushed the key into the lock. Porthos watched despite his own feelings of dizziness and disorientation returning. When Aramis crumpled to the floor, Porthos was ready, even from his inverted position he managed to guide the injured man down. Aramis remained sat on the floor, his eyes screwed shut.

Porthos looked back up at the key in the lock and knew what he had to do. Taking as much of a breath as he could, he slowly pulled himself up, clutching at his breeches. After a few seconds, he felt Aramis' hands on his shoulders steadying him, the help was welcome. He gradually pulled and dragged himself far enough to reach the key. Aramis had managed to get back to his feet, he grabbed Porthos around the shoulders and kept him still as he grabbed the chain just above the manacles. The help from Aramis was just enough for him to turn the key on the first manacle, before easing it from the lock and pushing it into the second. It annoyed him that it took him three tries. With his energy leaving him quickly he turned the key a second time.

The fall was only a couple of feet, and he had the luxury of landing on his friend, but it still left them both winded. Porthos managed to roll off Aramis who was lying on his back with his eyes shut but did not appear to be unconscious.

'We've still got to get out,' said Aramis with a wince.

'But at least the doors open now,' replied Porthos.

Aramis managed a pained chuckle.

Getting out of the room was the least of their problems.

MMMM


	9. Chapter 9

After taking out a few more guards d'Artagnan and Athos turned back towards their camp. D'Artagnan had been keeping an eye on his friend. Athos had been quiet since the dog encounter. The Musketeer seemed confused by his own perceived weakness. D'Artagnan had hoped he had made it clear that his friend had nothing to worry about. He was confident his friend would have no further problems with dogs. It was unusual to see the usually calm man so rattled by an incident. It just proved that Athos was, after all, just a man, which only elevated him further in d'Artagnan's eyes.

'I am fine,' muttered Athos with a sideways glance at him.

'Sorry,' said d'Artagnan.

'I can tell you are worrying about me and my problem with dogs.'

'No, I wasn't.'

Athos sighed, 'yes you were. You were worrying that I would be worrying that I would still have a problem.'

D'Artagnan took a moment to work out what Athos had just said before smiling.

'Yes, I was. And I guess that means you're not worrying about it anymore.'

Athos nodded.

'Now that that is settled,' said d'Artagnan, 'can we deal with our missing friends.'

Athos nodded again.

'I think we should head back to the camp and check the chateau again from that vantage point, get the lay of the land…and you never know, they might have escaped, captured Gerard and be waiting for us.'

D'Artagnan glanced at Athos who rolled his eyes.

'Wishful thinking,' muttered his friend.

They continued to pick their way through the rocks and scrubby bushes. D'Artagnan wondered how long it would be before Treville and reinforcements arrived. The chances were that he and Athos would not be able to liberate Aramis and Porthos on their own. They had managed to neutralise several men during the previous few hours, but they did not know how many men were in the Chateau. If Gerard and Gallo had amassed a small army d'Artagnan doubted he and Athos had made much of a dent in it.

MMMM

They knew they could not wait. It would not be long before Gallo and his favourite thugs were missed. Porthos had managed to get to his feet his eyes closed for several seconds. Aramis watched his friend, knowing that neither of them was really in any state to deal with what they were about to do. They had to get out of the house. There was no chance of them completing their mission. They could not abduct Gerard, not with both of them injured. Aramis knew he had been lucky if Porthos had not managed to shoot the brute that had been about to punch him he would probably have been lying in a crumpled heap on the floor. Either very badly injured or dead.

Porthos opened his eyes and looked down at Aramis.

'You coming then?' asked the Musketeer.

Aramis managed a smile.

'If I must, I'm very comfortable here,' replied Aramis, enjoying the camaraderie.

Porthos held out his hand bracing himself ready to pull Aramis up. With a hiss of pain, echoed by Porthos, Aramis got to his feet. He gently put some weight on his injured ankle. He looked at Porthos and shrugged his shoulders.

'A fine pair of soldiers me make,' he said.

Porthos nodded, 'not sure how stealthy we're going to be.'

After checking the bodies of Gallo and his men both Musketeers hobbled to the door of the cell and looked out. When they had been brought into the cellar, they had been walked down a set of stone steps, the steps were to their right. Aramis watched Porthos slowly walk along the cellar corridor to the left checking the other doors as he went. They were all locked.

'No back way out,' said Porthos.

Aramis looked at the stairs, knowing they had no choice but to go out the way they had gone in - through the main hallway.

'I don't think I've ever been intimidated by a stairway before', said Porthos.

They looked at the stone steps, rising in front of them.

'After you,' said Porthos.

Aramis smirked, 'worried I'll laugh at your less than elegant ascent?'

'Something like that.'

Aramis knew his friend wanted him to climb the steps first because he was worried. In truth, Aramis was a little worried himself. He could just about take some weight on his injured leg, but it was going to be a painful experience getting up the steps. He took a breath, steadied himself and started to climb. Under normal circumstances, they would not have made a sound. But this time neither of them could help the odd hiss or muttered curse. Aramis was glad there was a door at the top of the stairs to hide the noises they were making.

The top step was reached with a collective sigh from both men. Aramis felt Porthos' hand on the small of his back, he wondered if his friend had been there all the time. It was true that Porthos was not as badly injured, but Aramis was sure the man was suffering.

Aramis glanced back at Porthos as he pulled a stolen dagger from his belt. Aramis had taken a gun from Gallo but knew it could only be used as a last resort.

With them, both as ready as they could be Aramis eased the door open. There was no tell-tale creak, the door swung open silently. He peered out, his gaze sweeping along the short corridor.

Another door led to the hall. Along the corridor were a few other rooms, a couple of cupboards lined the walls between the doors. The cupboards were deep, they could be used to hide behind if necessary. He wondered if the servant's quarters actually had any servants in it or if Gerard only had the small army of Spanish men living in his chateau ready for the coup.

He stepped out into the corridor, Porthos stopped beside him.

'I'm not going to be running anywhere', said Porthos

'Neither will I,' agreed Aramis

He limped forward a few paces. The door he passed was ajar, he paused and glanced inside, it was empty. They moved on, Porthos tried the handle on the next door.

'Locked,' Porthos said before hobbling onwards.

They had reached the last room before they had no choice but to go through the door leading to the hall. The last door was pulled open as they reached it.

The two Musketeers stared at the occupant of the room. Elisabeth stared back.

The three of them reacted at the same time. Elizabeth opened her mouth to shout or scream, both Musketeers moved forward. Porthos smothered her mouth, muffling the scream. Elizabeth immediately struggling, she kicked out, her booted foot caught Aramis on the injured leg sending waves of pain through him as he put more pressure on his ankle. He stumbled back and fell to the floor.

Aramis willed the searing pain to go away, he was aware of Porthos struggling with the woman. He knew they would never live it down if the rest of the garrison found out that they had struggled to subdue a woman. Aramis managed to look back as he scrambled to his feet, using the wall for support. Porthos was trying not to shout at the woman who was biting the hand that was covering her mouth. She was clawing at Porthos arms and face in her attempt to get free of him. Porthos had several nasty looking scratches on his forearm and the side of his face.

'Open the door,' Porthos managed to say with a nod to the nearest cupboard.

Aramis understood and managed to get to the cupboard as Porthos swung the struggling, wriggling woman around. He pulled the door open. The cupboard was filled with sheets and cloths. He pulled the piled-up linen out of the cupboard, throwing it on the floor. As Porthos tried to manipulate Elizabeth into the cupboard she kicked out again knocking the door shut. Aramis grabbed one of the sheets and unfolded it, he threw it over the woman, pinning her legs together. Porthos managed to push the woman to the ground and hold her there. Once they were both off their injured ankles the Musketeers could work more efficiently. Aramis folded up one of the cloths and used it as a gag. Elizabeth shouted through the gag, but the sound was muffled enough that it did not carry. Next, they managed to wind the sheets around her, until she was practically covered in them. After firmly tying Elizabeth up Aramis opened the cupboard again. Porthos picked her up and shoved her unceremoniously into the cupboard firmly closing the door behind her. Aramis turned the small key.

They both stared at the door for a few seconds listening to Elizabeth's continued muffled shouts.

'She'll be found soon enough,' remarked Porthos.

'I would not want to be here when that door is opened again,' said Aramis.

MMMM

Trying to decide what their next move would be was not easy. They had a mission, it was simple. Arrest Gerard. However, the execution of that simple mission had been thrown into disarray. Aramis and Porthos had been captured and they had no idea what was happening in the Chateau.

'Do we go in there after Gerard ourselves?' asked d'Artagnan, the question as much to himself as to Athos.

Athos glanced at his friend, 'I do not think we have a choice,' he said. 'Gerard needs to be arrested.'

'And what about Aramis and Porthos?'

'You know that Gerard is our mission…and you know we will do all that we can to recover them.'

D'Artagnan smiled grimly and nodded, 'I know.'

If there was even the smallest of chances of freeing their friends Athos was determined they would take it. They would take the chance, even if it meant not capturing Gerard, although Athos also knew they would be berated by their friends if that were to happen.

They silently edged up to the rocky area where they could see the chateau. Peering over the edge they looked down on the Baron's chateau the two Musketeers took in the scene in front of them. Several men were leading horses to the front of the house. Other men were trailing out of the house carrying weapons and chests towards a couple of carts. More carts were being brought around from the rear of the house. It was obvious that the small army that had been assembled had been depleted by their activities in the grounds around the Chateau. The activity was not frenetic, but organised and methodical. Athos guessed the next phase of the planned coup was starting regardless of the upset the Musketeers had managed to bring. Gerard was standing at the top of the steps with the blonde woman who looked very angry. She was remonstrating with him about something before walking back into the chateau.

'Wonder what's annoyed her?' said d'Artagnan.

'I think we have seen enough,' said Athos. 'We will have to try to take Gerard before they leave. Once we have secured him, we can look for Porthos and Aramis.'

They quietly moved away from the edge of their observation point and turned back towards their secluded camp. Athos wondered what state his friends would be in. Were they even alive? Gerard and the Spaniards probably had no reason to keep the captured men alive.

'I do not think we need to rush,' said Athos, 'they appear to be packing up the whole house.'

'Yes,' mused d'Artagnan, 'the activity may help us, they will be distracted. But the patrols we dealt with will be missed soon enough.'

'We can try to circle – '

Athos stopped, d'Artagnan, who had been walking close behind him bumped into the back of him.

'What?'

As d'Artagnan looked over Athos' shoulder he gasped.

'Were you plannin' on rescuing us?' asked Porthos.

Athos found that he was lost for words. Porthos and Aramis were sitting in the centre of the camp. Both men looked dishevelled, both were covered in bruises, cuts and grazes and they had both taken their boots off. Porthos was busy helping Aramis to shrug out of his doublet.

'How did you? When did you?'

Athos was pleased that d'Artagnan was struggling to work out what had happened as well.

'I take it you know we were recognised?' asked Aramis.

'Yes,' said d'Artagnan. 'We saw the woman and I remembered her being there when the building was blown up.'

'I think,' said Athos, 'that we need to start at the beginning. You two obviously have injuries that need dealing with. We can patch you up as we debrief.'

As they talked through what had happened to them each, they slowly built up a picture of what was happening in the Chateau. Aramis and Porthos had not had much of a chance to take in their surroundings. They had been trying to escape for the whole time they were within the walls of the impressive building. They had seen that there were fewer men than they had originally thought. After some rough calculations, Athos concluded that the men they had observed loading the carts were probably the only ones left.

Porthos hissed in pain as d'Artagnan wrapped bandages around his ankles.

'We probably have not helped ourselves by continuing to move about,' mused Aramis as he washed and dressed the grazes on his arms.

Athos held his friend steady as he pulled his boots back on, Aramis screwed his eyes shut as he rode out the pain he had caused himself.

'She managed to scratch you pretty badly,' said d'Artagnan as he dabbed at the deep scratches on Porthos' cheek.

'Yeah,' agreed Porthos, 'it was not our finest hour.'

'I'm glad she's the only one we had to deal with,' said Aramis.

Athos agreed, his friends had been lucky. The blonde woman had caused them a few issues, but otherwise, their escape had been unremarkable.

'Gerard has put himself in charge,' said Porthos, 'with Gallo dead the rest of the men are looking to him to lead. Although I can't think why.'

'Because they probably don't know the whole plan,' suggested Aramis.

'They have been hired by Gallo and Gerard.'

'The woman knows the plan,' said d'Artagnan. 'She probably wanted to take over, but... well... she's a woman.'

'And young,' pointed out Porthos.

Athos wondered what the next part of the plan was for the Spaniards. He also wondered what they were going to do next. Neither Aramis nor Porthos would be capable of fighting. Aramis could not walk without help and Porthos was not much better off.

'We're not going to be much help,' said Porthos, who had come to the same conclusion.

D'Artagnan rose to his feet and looked back towards the chateau.

'I'll have a look; see how they're getting on.'

The young Musketeer wandered off.

Aramis started to tidy his medical bag away, managing to gather the assorted unused cloths and salves together without moving from where he was sat on the ground. Porthos threw a few of the bits across to him, Aramis easily caught the items with one hand.

'What you smiling at?' asked Porthos who had noticed Athos observing them.

'I think,' said Athos, 'that you two can be of use after all.'

'How? Neither of us can stand up without help.'

Aramis nodded his agreement to Porthos' words.

'You don't need to stand,' said Athos. 'The hardest part will be getting you to where you need to be.'

Both injured Musketeers looked puzzled.

MMMM

Porthos watched Athos and d'Artagnan disappear back along the narrow, rocky path that led into and out of the fortress-like hideaway.

'They had to watch us going off alone a few hours ago,' pointed out Aramis.

'Never easy,' mused Porthos.

They had been helped into the hidden natural fortress several minutes before. Aramis had a makeshift crutch lying beside him as he sorted through the guns and ammunition. The injured Musketeer had needed a few minutes to recover from the uncomfortable walk from their camp. D'Artagnan had remained by Aramis' side until Aramis had waved him off.

Athos had explained that when they had been picking off the patrols, they had stumbled across the closed off rocky formation by accident. They had been forced to retrace their steps but only after they had noted that the end of the path overlooked the lawn of the chateau, close enough for a well-aimed gun to reach its target. And when those guns were aimed by Musketeers the chances were even greater that they would reach their targets. Neither injured soldier would have to move about much, and their firing point would be difficult for any of Gerard's men to reach without being noticed.

Once settled they had bid Athos and d'Artagnan farewell and watched them disappear to make their own assault on the chateau. They had a good view of the front door of the chateau and the lawn. Gerard's home may have been away from the city and well hidden from all but the most curious of passers-by, but it was also easy to get close to unobserved. Their hiding place would not be secret for long, as soon as they started firing, they would be spotted but it would be difficult for the Spaniards to fire back with any hope of hitting them. Any retaliation would have to be made in close combat and anyone that attempted to approach their position could be picked off easily.

The plan only worked because they knew there were not many men left. The small army, smaller than they had first thought had been depleted by Athos and d'Artagnan in their stealth attacks and to a lesser extent by Aramis and Porthos during their brief spell as captives. The real leader of the gang, Gallo, would probably have been able to rally his dwindling army more efficiently than Gerard. But Gallo was not there to do that anymore.

Porthos watched Aramis pushing a few loose rocks aside and shifting about a little to find the most comfortable position to fire from. If they were in a battle they would have been armed with muskets, but they had to make do with their pistols and a closer firing point. Aramis was used to lying in wait. Porthos was not, he looked at the sharp rocks that covered the area.

'Not ideal,' said Aramis who had noticed Porthos' dilemma. 'Use your cloak, fold it over a few times and lay it over the worst of the rocks.'

Porthos rolled his eyes, 'I think I could have worked that out for myself.'

Aramis smirked, 'I'm sure you would have done eventually, but we need to be ready in minutes – '

'I'll take your walking stick and abandon you,' suggested Porthos with a smile of his own.

'Doubt you'd get very far,' muttered Aramis as he rechecked his guns were exactly where he wanted them.

Pre-battle banter was always his favourite. Insults and jokes were necessary before they settled to the seriousness of what they were about to do.

'They're on the edge of the lawn,' said Aramis. 'Ready?'

'Always.'

They both took a few deep breaths and sighted along the barrels of their guns. No discussion was needed, they had fought together long enough to instinctively know which of them would aim at which enemy opponent.

The Spaniards were still busy packing up the carts. There were about twenty men, including Gerard who was giving orders and generally trying to look as though he was a natural leader. The men were all armed but did not look particularly alert, engrossed in their job of packing for the battles they expected to wage in Paris. The men were not expecting to engage in a battle at that moment.

That was about to change.

Two shots rang out. Two men fell.

The remaining men were quick to react all eyes were on Athos and d'Artagnan who were walking purposefully across the lawn separating as they moved. The Spaniards did the same. Swords were drawn, Gerard shouted an order to kill the two Musketeers before drawing his own sword and moving forward.

Five men engaged the two Musketeers. Athos took on two while d'Artagnan was unlucky to have three men head in his direction. Aramis evened the odds.

As soon as Aramis had fired a couple of the men who were standing back looked in their direction. One man, a swarthy looking older man pulled his gun from his belt. Porthos shot him before he had a chance to check it was primed. Porthos paused to reload, watching the other man that was trying to work out exactly where they were. Aramis concentrated on watching Athos and d'Artagnan. Porthos heard him fire again, another man would play no further part in the plot.

The other man that was looking for their hiding spot appeared to have found them, he raised his gun and pulled the trigger. A rock splintered a couple of yards to Porthos' left. Neither Musketeer flinched.

Porthos fired a second time, a second time his aim was true.

'Six down,' said Porthos with a smile.

'Eight,' corrected Aramis.

Porthos glanced towards d'Artagnan and Athos who had both dealt with a man each as more men moved forward to fill the gap.

With no one else trying to reach their firing position, Porthos went back to keeping the men from overwhelming Athos and d'Artagnan. He fired at one of the men who was trying to get around Athos. The shot was not perfect, but it would see the man out of the rest of the skirmish. At the same instance, one of the men Athos was engaged in a swordfight with made a fatal mistake and became the tenth enemy soldier to be taken out of the battle.

Aramis fired off his two guns in quick succession pushing the odds even further in their favour.

'I've lost a couple of them,' said Porthos as he scanned the men and the bodies.

Rocks crashing against each other caused the two men to twist around. The two missing Spaniards had found their way into the rocky fortress. One had an evil sneer; he raised and fired his gun without pause. Both Musketeers threw themselves out of the way. The ball hit the rocks in between them. Porthos used the momentum he had gained getting out of the way of the shot to turn completely whipping his gun around and firing at the same time. The sneering man stared at him, his eyes suddenly vacant before he toppled forward, landing heavily on the rocks at their feet.

The second man rushed forward, he was not carrying a gun, only a dagger, held aloft in his hand. Aramis barely had time to react before the man was on him, grappling with the dagger, trying to push the blade into the Musketeer's chest. Porthos pushed himself up, willed the pain in his ankles away and surged forward knocking the man off Aramis who could not help a cry of pain as his own injuries were agitated. Porthos tumbled to the ground, he did not worry about the dagger, he landed with the man under him. Before the enemy had a chance to wield the dagger Porthos had punched him across the jaw, the man's head smacked into a jagged rock beneath them. The effect was instant, the man went limp, the dagger falling harmlessly to the ground.

'Porthos?'

Porthos took a couple of breaths before he managed to respond, 'yes?'

'Thanks,' said Aramis.

The two men looked at each other for a few seconds before rallying and retaking their previous positions. As they took in the scene, they realised Athos and d'Artagnan had been busy. Only three men were left.

D'Artagnan was soundly beating two of them into submission. A few yards further across the lawn Gerard was squaring up to Athos.

MMMM

**Authors note: Thanks for the comments/favourites/follows **


	10. Chapter 10

The fight had started well, d'Artagnan had to admit it could not have gone better. The help that Aramis and Porthos were giving them with the shots from the side of the lawn had thinned the enemy out considerably. They were left with just three men. The fight had been tiring but knowing that the four of them were involved had helped d'Artagnan to keep focused. His focus had wandered briefly when the shots had stopped, he hoped Aramis and Porthos were alright. He knew something must have happened to prevent them from continuing to pick off the men. D'Artagnan forced himself to concentrate on the two men in front of him. He was aware of Athos and Gerard squaring up to each other a few yards away. He knew that to offer any assistance to his brothers he had to deal with the two men in front of him first.

With the occasional glance around for any more men arriving to join the fight, d'Artagnan concentrated on the two men. One was younger than him and looked scared, the other was a swarthy older man, who looked angry. The older man was more disciplined with his moves, but he was slower than he might have been in his younger days. He was not predictable and had training, but the lack of speed was what d'Artagnan could use to his advantage. The younger man was predictable and d'Artagnan could exploit that as well.

'It is over Baron. Why not give in now, and save yourself the humiliation of being taken back to Paris in chains?'

D'Artagnan stepped closer to the younger man who had glanced across when Athos spoke. The distracted man was easy to push to the ground. The older man had not been distracted, he continued with his thrusts and slices. D'Artagnan avoided the man's sword with ease, he kept an eye on the younger man as he scrambled to his feet. Before the man could step closer d'Artagnan made a decisive move against the older man, slicing deeply across the man's hips and stomach. A swift kick saw the man stumble backwards into the other man as he tried to get back into the fight. D'Artagnan followed the dying man, taking a couple of steps forward and thrusting his sword at the younger man who stood no chance.

With both of his opponents dying, blood pooling beneath them, d'Artagnan could turn his attention to the battle of blades and wills that was happening across the lawn as Athos continued to try to talk Gerard out of what was little more than a duel between the two men.

'You are delusional, Musketeer,' said Gerard with a sneer, 'if you think that you can beat me.'

D'Artagnan could see by Athos' expression that his friend found the comment amusing. Athos was playing a defensive game, he was parrying and blocking the Baron's attacks with ease, just doing enough to keep the man busy.

'Once I have dealt with you, I will take the remaining men and still complete my plan- '

'You perhaps have not noticed that you are the last of your men standing?' asked Athos as he swiped one of the Barons enthusiastic attacks aside.

The moment's hesitation from Gerard was all that Athos had been waiting for. As Gerard glanced across the lawn, the realisation of what Athos was saying dawning on him Athos made a move that took the Baron completely by surprise. The superior swordsman disarmed the Baron with a swift twist of his sword and stepped forward tripping the defeated man to the ground in one quick movement.

The Baron, anger in his eyes, tried to wrench a gun from his belt. He only succeeded in laying his hand on the weapon before he felt the point of d'Artagnan's blade on his chest and Athos boot pushing his arm into the ground. The two Musketeers stared down at the Baron who glanced around for a few seconds, tried to pull himself free for a few more before lying back and stopping any resistance.

'Are you going to behave for us?' asked Athos.

The Baron did not respond he stared at Athos with contempt. Athos reloaded his gun and aimed it at their prisoner as d'Artagnan quickly pulled a belt from one of the dead Spaniards.

'I will not be restrained like a common criminal,' complained the Baron.

'No, Monsieur,' said Athos, 'you will be restrained like a Noble. A disgraced Noble who had plotted against his King.'

'You said I wouldn't be restrained,' Gerard said, his voice starting to whine.

'I said if you gave yourself up you would not be taken to Paris in chains,' replied Athos. 'I did not say you would not be restrained.'

After a few moments of resistance, the Baron submitted to the restraints. D'Artagnan hauled the man to his feet and kept a careful hold on him.

Athos was looking towards the area where they had left Aramis and Porthos. D'Artagnan followed his gaze.

'I know, I'm worried as well,' he said.

'It's too tight,' Gerard said, pulling at the leather-wrapped around his wrists.

D'Artagnan looked at Athos for a few seconds, Athos nodded and pulled his scarf from around his neck handing it to d'Artagnan who struggled to hide his amusement as he gagged the complaining man. Gerard looked very put out, as he continued to mumble through the cloth.

Between them, they forced the Baron to walk towards the entrance to the natural fortress. As they neared the only way into the vantage point Athos took the lead, his gun held ready.

'We're fine.'

D'Artagnan watched as Athos lowed his gun, the tension dissipating from his friend as he continued to walk forward.

As they entered the rocky area, they found two bodies littering the ground. One man had been shot the other appeared to have a nasty wound to his head. Porthos was sat busy reloading the guns whilst Aramis was still watching the lawn intently. D'Artagnan wondered what his friend was looking for, he was sure there were no more men left alive.

Porthos glanced at Aramis before looking back, 'Elizabeth got away,' he said.

Aramis sighed, 'I let her get away. I had a clear shot… I just… couldn't.'

'We have Gerard,' said Athos. 'That was the objective. The rest of the plotters have been dealt with. I doubt she can cause much harm on her own.'

Aramis shook his head, 'I still shouldn't have let her go.'

Porthos reached out and squeezed his friend's shoulder.

As the exchange was going on d'Artagnan glanced at Gerard, he could tell the Baron looked pleased if he was not gagged the man would probably have been smirking. D'Artagnan wondered why Gerard looked so pleased.

MMMM

Athos watched as Aramis wrestled with the knowledge that he had let one of the plotters escape. Killing a woman was never an easy thing to do, he knew from experience the action was different from killing a man. It was odd, it should not make a difference and yet it did. Athos had no intention of blaming his friend for letting Elizabeth get away.

Porthos and Aramis had both remained where they were, sat on the rocks of the fortress. Athos was reminded that both men were injured and walking any distance was out of the question. The idea of getting them on horses was probably wishful thinking as well. But they had a prisoner that needed to be dealt with. He did not like the idea of leaving the injured men but at the same time, he did not think either he or d'Artagnan could cope with the Baron alone. The man would probably try to escape at the first opportunity.

D'Artagnan, who had pushed Gerard to his knees and left him under the watchful gaze of Porthos, turned to him.

'I have friends that live near here,' he said.

Athos looked at him, 'friends that might be prepared to take in a couple of injured men for a few days… friends that might have a secure room or cellar where a prisoner could be kept?'

D'Artagnan nodded, 'remember the night I got caught up in the explosion?'

Athos nodded, remembering the start of the whole affair vividly.

'It was them that I saw in the tavern. They used to live in Gascony. I was good friends with Marin, he's my age. His older brothers were friendly as well. I lost touch with them when they moved. They've made money trading, they gave me their address, it's near here. They said I could visit…'

'Will they be as welcoming when they find four Musketeers and a disgraced noble turn up on their doorstep?' asked Porthos.

'I'm sure they'll help.' said d'Artagnan. 'I can go ahead; they may be able to send a cart or carriage.'

Athos nodded, 'if you are sure. We can make it to the road.'

Athos glanced at Gerard, the Baron was watching the exchange with interest, Athos wondered why.

D'Artagnan was busy checking his weapons, 'I'll be as quick as I can. We'll meet you by that old Oak, where we turned off the main road.'

Athos nodded remembering the grand old tree they had passed on their way to the Baron's chateau. He looked back at Porthos and Aramis who both nodded. He knew it would be uncomfortable for them both, but they would make it the couple of miles back to the main road.

After d'Artagnan had walked away Athos turned to his injured friends, he was pleased to see Aramis already on his feet, his makeshift crutch employed to steady him whilst he helped Porthos up. It was obvious both men were in pain, but they would push the pain away whilst they had a prisoner to deal with. Gerard did not look too pleased as Athos hauled him up to stand keeping a firm grip on his arm.

Athos pushed Gerard to walk forward, they took the lead with Aramis and Porthos hobbling behind them. Porthos had drawn one of his guns and had it held loosely at his side as they walked. If Gerard managed to get free of Athos' grip the man would soon find himself on the receiving end of a Musketeer's perfect aim. Aramis, who needed both hands on his crutch as he hopped after them, could not help with the prisoner, but Athos knew that his gun would be drawn in seconds if the Baron did make a move against them.

The thick woods were not ideal to traverse with a prisoner and two injured soldiers, but they had little choice, the rough path that led from the chateau to the main road would have taken much longer to travel on. Athos wanted to minimise the pressure he put on his two injured friends who were only making their injuries worse by continuing to walk. He was aware of Aramis breathing hard as they continued over the rocky terrain.

As the afternoon was wearing on and the shadows began to lengthen Athos hoped they would be welcomed by d'Artagnan's friends, he did not like the idea of camping with a prisoner when two of them were injured. They had been forced to leave their horses stabled in the closest village and finish the journey on foot which was not helping their current situation, he would have felt more in control if they could have tied Gerard to a horse giving him less of a chance to make a run for it.

As the road came into view Athos heard Aramis sigh with relief. The large oak tree loomed over them, its branches reaching wide, stretching across the road. Exposed roots at the base of its trunk provided seats for the two injured men and a place to restrain Gerard. Athos suspected Porthos took a little too much joy from tying the man to a thick root. Gerard was not going to escape with ease. Athos looked along the road, in the direction he expected d'Artagnan to return. The dimming light was starting to become an issue. He knew d'Artagnan would return either with or without help, he just hoped his friend could find them.

'You could head down the road a little,' suggested Aramis, who was probably thinking along the same lines as him. 'Our prisoners not going anywhere and if he were to miraculously get himself out of Porthos' knots we'll just shoot him in the legs so he can't run away.'

Athos looked at Gerard who was staring at Aramis incredulously. Aramis was smirking.

'I will, perhaps, walk a little way along the road,' said Athos after a few moments thought. 'We may have missed some of the plotters. I hope I am worrying unjustly- '

'But it's better to be safe than sorry,' said Porthos with a nod.

After a last look at Gerard, Athos walked away from his friends. He did not like the idea of leaving the two injured men alone with the prisoner but knew the Baron had been firmly restrained and that, despite their injuries, the two Musketeers would not allow the prisoner to escape. The feeling that something was not right was niggling his mind. D'Artagnan had taken a direct route to get help and even if no help was offered, he should have been either waiting by the oak tree or arriving soon after they had arrived.

Athos walked along the road, keeping an eye on his surroundings as he went, it was well into the evening, the darkness causing the wooded areas to look more foreboding than they would have during the day. He listened intently dismissing the local fauna's movements quickly. An owl hooted in the distance.

When he heard a conversation that did not sound pleasant Athos quickly stepped off the road and secreted himself in a tangle of bushes as four men walked towards him. One of the men was slightly ahead of the other three his hands out in submission. D'Artagnan had been stripped of his weapons and did not look happy. Athos recognised the other three men as the friends d'Artagnan was supposed to be going to for help. The men did not appear to be as friendly as d'Artagnan had been expecting them to be.

'We offered you the chance to join us,' said the youngest of the three men.

Athos remembered d'Artagnan referring to him as Marin.

'And I am glad I did not,' replied d'Artagnan unable to hide the annoyance in his voice.

The two older men, Marin's brothers were holding guns, one was pointed at d'Artagnan, forcing him to do their bidding. Athos wondered what the plan was, wondered what the brothers wanted.

'We should have employed someone else, Gallo was always going to be a liability,' said one of the older men.

The other man nodded, 'and Gerard has not really proved much good. I thought we'd picked a good malleable man. He'd probably have proved no good. We're going to have to start again.'

Athos shook his head, he knew there had been another man providing the money for the coup attempt, but to find out the money was actually coming from a trio of wealthy brothers who had made their money through trade was a shock. He hated to think about what d'Artagnan was feeling. His friend would be devastated that he knew the people behind the assassination attempt.

The four men stopped suddenly staring at the opposite side of the road to where Athos was hiding. Elizabeth, her lithe figure accentuated by her black clothing, stepped out and walked up to d'Artagnan who stared at her open-mouthed. The young woman was armed with a sword, slipped into a thin leather belt. Athos could see a small gun tucked into the other side of the belt at her hip.

'You…' he said. 'I'd forgotten you… I…'

Elizabeth looked at d'Artagnan for a few seconds before a smile formed on her lips. The smile was thin, evil.

'They told me they'd seen you and that you had asked after me. I wondered if you'd want to rekindle what we had… but how could you have forgotten me?'

The look on d'Artagnan's face told Athos his friend had finally remembered what it was that had been evading him since he had been caught in the explosion. He not only recognised the young blonde woman from when he had seen her with Gallo and Gerard, he knew her. Elizabeth was a sister to Marin and, Athos guessed, another friend of d'Artagnan's, a close friend.

Athos could tell d'Artagnan was annoyed with himself for not remembering. If he had remembered that piece of information from the start, they could have approached the whole affair differently. They might have been able to avoid a lot of what had gone on.

Athos also knew d'Artagnan probably needed a little help.

MMMM

_A little earlier…_

D'Artagnan had found the modest house where Marin and his brothers lived quite easily. The sweeping driveway was well maintained, he was impressed that his friend had made money and come to live in such surroundings. The three men, Marin, in particular, had been good friends to him.

He remembered well the mischief they would get up to in the odd hours they were not busy on their respective farms. But a particularly harsh winter coupled with the death of both their parents had left the brothers ready to take on something different. A complete change of lifestyle had appealed to the clever men. D'Artagnan had always known the men would make something of themselves. He had been impressed with their stories of trade and negotiations with other countries when he had been with them in the tavern that fateful night. It pleased him the brothers had managed to make better lives for themselves.

Marin and his brothers had been at the front of the house, they all looked up as d'Artagnan walked towards them. The men were armed, which d'Artagnan thought a little odd for tradesmen, he wondered if they were aware of the Spaniards living at Gerard's chateau, they were neighbours after all.

The three men had exchanged glances, the oldest brother, Michal said something to the others. Marin had shaken his head and made a gesture for the two older men to stay where they were. Michal had nodded before saying something else as Marin walked a few steps forward.

'D'Artagnan!' he said with enthusiasm taking his hand and shaking it firmly. 'I didn't expect you to take me up on the offer so quickly.'

'This isn't a social call,' said d'Artagnan. 'My friends and I are on the King's business, two of my friends have been injured and we have a prisoner. They're waiting by that old oak tree near the road that leads to Baron Gerard's chateau. I hate to ask but we need help…'

D'Artagnan trailed off looking at Marin and the two older men who had slowly moved forward. Michal had pulled a gun from his belt as he walked raising it to aim at d'Artagnan.

'Marin… Michal… Marc… What…'

'We could spend a while pretending to help you,' said Marc, 'but what's the point. You're an intelligent man, you'd have worked it out and then we would just end up in this position anyway.'

Marin nodded, 'why fight it. We have more money and resources. You should have joined us when we offered.'

'Join you?' said d'Artagnan as he tried to work out what was going on.

'We're the money,' said Michal. 'We're the ones that are financing what you and your friends are interfering with.'

'You're the ones that have set this all up… Why?'

D'Artagnan looked from man to man taking in their good clothing, the modest, but well-kept house behind them. He did not need an answer, his friends were plotting against the King for financial gain. They were using Gerard to get close to the monarch. Marin and his brothers were not of noble stock they could not simply walk into the Palace.

'I think,' said Marin with a smile, 'you should look at yourself for the answer. You're a soldier, you have nothing compared to us. You'll never amount to anything. But we, we have money, and we have connections. We have ambition.'

Marc pulled a gun from his belt, levelling it at d'Artagnan. Marin stepped forward and pulled d'Artagnan's sword and gun from his weapons belt before patting him down in search of any other weapons.

'Take off the belts,' said Marin.

D'Artagnan did as he was told, he tried to think ahead, tried to guess what the brothers would do next. He wondered why they had not simply killed him. What use was he as a captive?

'Turn around, start walking. Back the way you came. We'll need you as a bargaining tool. Gerard may be pathetic, but he could still be useful to us,' said Marin with a nod back along the road.

His mind reeling d'Artagnan turned and walked back the way he had come, desperately trying to think of ways to get out of the danger he had inadvertently put them all in.

MMMM

Athos picked up a stout stick from the ground, he threw it along the road, it landed with a thud causing the brothers to all turn back. D'Artagnan, who had not fallen for the ploy reacted quickly, exactly as Athos had expected him to. He stepped toward one of the older brothers and grabbed the man's sword from his belt before kicking the man hard to the back of the thigh.

At the same time, Athos surged forward swiping at the other older man, the blade sliced across the man's side deeply. With a pained cry, the man twisted around, grabbing at his side at the same time, blood seeping between his fingers as he pressed his hand against the wound. The man stumbled a couple of steps before sinking to his knees a look of shock and surprise on his face.

The clashing of swords between d'Artagnan and Marin rang out across the darkening wood. A chorus of disgruntled birds disturbed from their roosts by the ringing of the steel only added to the noise the fight was causing. If there were any more Spaniards in the vicinity, they were bound to hear the sounds of the fight and make their way towards them. Athos looked around warily for a few seconds before he was forced back into the fight by the other brother who had managed to regain his footing and was busy trying to yank his gun from his belt. Athos moved towards the man, his first lunge was ineffective as the man managed to deflect the blow with his gloved hand, the blade sliced through the leather and would have left the man injured, but in the heat of the battle, the man did not seem to notice. Athos quickly sliced at the man a second time. The man was not as lucky with the second attack. The stroke hit his arm hard enough to cause real damage. The young man tried to push forward, into Athos, but only succeeded in taking a couple of steps before he sank to the ground in a similar manner to his brother, Athos pulled his sword from the man's chest. The man looked up at Athos for a few seconds as he made a feeble effort to pull his gun loose. Even as he continued to try, he sank back to the ground, balanced for a few seconds before slumping to the side.

Athos looked across to d'Artagnan who was staring down at the unconscious form of Marin, a look of betrayal and anger on his face.

They both looked up at the sound of footsteps retreating through the leaf litter of the woods. Elizabeth had taken her chance and run off. The two Musketeers looked at each other, the young woman, who had nothing to lose, was heading in the direction of the oak tree.

MMMM


	11. Chapter 11

Porthos had hobbled across the road to relieve himself. He stared into the dark woods wondering how many creatures were staring back at him. They had watched Athos disappear into the gloom of the evening before settling to wait for his return. Both Musketeers felt useless. Aramis was trying to hide how much pain he was in from his fight with Gallo and the brutish Spaniard in the cellar. Their assortment of injuries were starting to make themselves known. The scratches Porthos had received from the cat-like Elizabeth were stinging. He wondered if he would be left with more scars on his face after she had clawed at him.

A twig snapped a few yards away. Porthos looked towards the sound but could not make out what it was, a night-time animal going about its business oblivious to the Musketeers and their prisoner, Porthos suspected.

He turned back to the oak tree. The ancient tree, its branches spreading wide in all directions dominated the immediate area. The exposed roots testament to the age of the tree. Aramis was watching the road in the other direction, his injured leg stretched out in front of him, his gun resting in his lap. Aramis may have been injured but he was still ready to react to anything. Gerard was looking in the direction Porthos had heard the twigs snapping, the Baron had narrowed his eyes, squinting in an attempt to make something out. Porthos looked back in the same direction.

At the same time that Gerard started to shout through his gag, Elizabeth broke free of the undergrowth. The young woman had a determined expression on her face and a gun in her hand. She was aiming the small gun in the direction of the oak.

Porthos hobbled forward, wishing he could move quicker, but knowing to try to do so would probably cause him to stumble to the ground.

Aramis had twisted around, inadvertently knocking his injured ankle in the process, his friend had been about to raise his own gun but instead wilted slightly blinking hard trying to work thought the pain he had caused himself.

Elizabeth was closing in on her target. Gerard looked up at her, his expression going from one of relief to shock as he realised, she intended to shoot him.

'My brothers should have listened to me,' she said, her words dripping with venom, 'they're all dead because of you- '

'NO!'

D'Artagnan yelled as he ran towards the young woman. The Musketeer shot passed Porthos who was still trying to reach their prisoner. D'Artagnan grabbed Elizabeth, pulling her arm high and wide of its mark as she fired the gun. Gerard had pushed himself as low as he could get with his arms tied behind him to the root of the tree.

Elizabeth was struggling with d'Artagnan who was trying to move her away from the prisoner, she had dropped the gun and was trying to wriggle free of d'Artagnan's grasp using the same tactics she had with Porthos earlier in the day. She scratched at d'Artagnan and twisted to kick him. Porthos had nearly reached the pair when managed to kick d'Artagnan hard in the knee causing the Musketeer to yelp in pain, but he held fast trying to contain her flailing arms.

The constant movement had caused the pair to shift to the side of the road. Porthos could see what was going to happen, as he shouted out a warning d'Artagnan lost his footing, tipping them both off the road and into a shallow dip at the side of the road.

A sudden stillness descended. Porthos reached the edge of the road and looked down the couple of feet that d'Artagnan and Elizabeth had fallen. D'Artagnan was lying on his side staring at Elizabeth, his arm was caught underneath the young woman.

'Lizzy?'

D'Artagnan shifted slightly, wincing as he did so, the young woman did not move. Even as the Musketeer gently turned her head, Porthos could see Elizabeth was dead, a trickle of blood on her temple telling him all he needed to know. The rocks that littered the area had been her undoing.

D'Artagnan pulled the limp woman into his arms, he shook her a little before looking at her with disbelief.

'I didn't…' he looked up at Porthos. 'I didn't mean to kill her.'

'You didn't,' said Porthos, 'it was an accident. You couldn't have predicted how you would have fallen.'

D'Artagnan looked back at the woman in his arms for a few seconds before gently laying her back down. He remained where he was looking down at the body of the young woman.

MMMM

_A little later…_

Treville listened intently as Athos told him all that had gone on. He nodded occasionally but did not interrupt. The Captain glanced at his men who were sat around the sitting room in Baron Gerard's chateau, receiving attention from Barbotin in his guise of field medic.

Aramis was reclining on a chaise longue, cool cloths draped over his ankle. The bruises and grazes that covered most of his body leaving Aramis in even more discomfort. It had not been long before he had fallen into an uneasy sleep. Barbotin had quietly draped a blanket over the sleeping Musketeer before passing out the rest of the blankets he had brought into the room with him.

Porthos was sat in a cushioned chair near the hearth his feet resting on a footstool, his boots lying discarded on the floor next to him. Porthos' attention was solely on d'Artagnan.

As Treville listened to Athos report what had happened d'Artagnan stared at the fire. The young Musketeer had not reacted when Barbotin had cleaned up the scratches and grazes to his face and hands. Treville could understand d'Artagnan's reaction. He felt to blame for most of what had happened. He had been friends with the perpetrators of the events and been partly responsible for the death of one of them. The fact that he had been in a relationship with the woman that had died was obviously playing heavily on d'Artagnan's mind.

D'Artagnan had told them that Elizabeth and he had become close when he was friendly with the brothers. If they had not moved away after their farm had started to lose money, there was a chance d'Artagnan and Elizabeth would have married.

Now the young man was sat, slightly slumped in a chair a slightly vacant look on his face.

Treville knew he would have to talk to the young man and make him understand that he was not at fault for all that had gone on. They had succeeded, they had foiled the plot against the King. They were sure all the plotters were either caught or dead. Any of the Spanish vigilantes that might have escaped would have been hired help and not known the full details of what the plan had been.

Gerard and Marin were currently incarcerated in the cellar under guard.

When he had arrived on the scene with the rest of the Musketeer's he had been surprised to come across his men on the road a mile from the Baron's chateau. Athos had been busy restraining a young man to a tree on the opposite side of the road to Gerard, who was bound and gagged, tied to the roots of a giant oak tree. Porthos was sat with Aramis neither man looked at their best.

D'Artagnan had been sat at the edge of the road looking down, it had not been until Treville had reached the dishevelled looking group that he had seen the body of the young woman lying below them. They had told him a few minutes later that they had deliberately kept Marin away from d'Artagnan and the sight of his deceased sister in an attempt to keep the captured man calm.

As Athos finished his report Treville nodded his thanks before rising from the chair he had been sat in, he walked across to d'Artagnan and sat in the chair next to his Musketeer. D'Artagnan turned to look at him, he was about to speak but Treville held up his hand to stop him.

'You've spent a lot of time blaming yourself during this mission,' said Treville. 'You blamed yourself for losing a chunk of your memory after you were caught in that explosion and you are obviously blaming yourself for the death of that young woman.'

D'Artagnan looked away for a few seconds.

'And you are certainly not to blame for not guessing that your friends were behind this. From what you have said they have completely changed their beliefs since you knew them. People change, you could not have predicted that. And you are not to blame for their choices.'

It took the young Musketeer a few seconds, but he nodded.

Porthos leaned forward a little, 'you know that her death here has spared her time in the Chatelet, probably being interrogated and then her conviction and execution. You know that is the fate that waits for Marin and Gerard.'

D'Artagnan nodded again, 'I still can't believe how much they've changed. They seemed the same when I spoke to them in Paris. I was pleased they had built up a good trading business…' he paused for a couple of seconds. 'They asked me to join them… I'm glad I didn't.'

The End.

**Author note: Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. **


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